Brigadoons and Gals
by AlyshebaFan1
Summary: Four female penguins and three female lemurs are introduced to the Central Park Zoo as part of a new 'program'. Some pairs easily find romance, but love is harder to come by for two pairs.
1. Chapter 1

BRIGADOONS AND DOLLS

"Look, Skipper, we can make a model ship!" Private placed the box on the table and smiled happily. "I found it in the rubbish bin last night…on patrol."

"A ship in a bottle?" Skipper rubbed his eyes, not minding terribly that Private had awakened him from a deep sleep, but he would have rather stayed asleep just the same.

"Well…seeing as we lack opposable thumbs, that might be difficult…"

"Private, building the ship itself would be difficult, with or without thumbs. But sure, go ahead and get it open. We could build a ship and sail right on outta here! Hoo-ah!" He frowned. "What kinda ship is it?"

"It says…Brigantine!" Private waggled the box, its contents rustling inside. Skipper thought, for a moment, that he would like to be that perpetually cheerful. But then he figured he'd also go completely nuts after a while if he was that happy.

"I thought that was a kind of cookie," Kowalksi said, approaching and peering with increasing curiosity at the picture of the model ship shown on the box. He sniffed it and was about to put it through his usual analysis routine when Skipper stopped him.

"That would be a Macaroon."

"Macaroon? Isn't that a kind of pasta?" Kowalksi queried.

"I thought that was a musical." Private looked confused.

"That's _Brigadoon_," Skipper muttered, wishing he hadn't said anything. How do you explain being a tough guy while loving Broadway musicals? Thank God no one had ever caught him singing show tunes in the shower. Last night, while everyone had slept, he had watched _Guys and Dolls_ for about the five hundredth time and was still humming 'Sit Down You're Rocking the Boat' to himself. He pictured himself as a Nathan Detroit type, actually. Minus the sneezing girlfriend, of course.

"So what's the difference between another type of ship and this?" Private asked, pointing back at the picture of the ship.

"Well, a frigate has a fore and aft mainsail," Skipper explained for starters, warming to his subject. About which he knew, but would never admit to it, very little.

"That's a brigantine, sir," Kowalski pointed at the box. "It says so. On the…box," he faltered at Skipper's glare. "Well, it does."

Skipper paused. "So what's a frigate?"

"When you just don't care any more, sir!" Private said brightly. Nonetheless, he opened the box and the three penguins began assembling the brigantine, piece by piece. "Hey, first, we must read the instructions!" He took a long, thin piece away from Kowalski. "Be careful, you could put your eye out with that thing!"

"The instructions…hm…" Skipper unfolded the paper and read aloud. "'To be assembly very easily the Brigadoon, place the piece gluefully together and kiss the next several hundred hours of your life and possibly even your sanity goodbye'. Hm. I think these were translated from the Japanese by a very bitter person."

The escape hatch suddenly opened and Julien entered, ambling toward the refrigerator. Rico was immediately awake, dashing toward the lemur, ready to inflict serious bodily harm. "I wouldn't if I were you," Skipper called out, though it wasn't entirely clear if he was speaking to Julien or Rico. Julien opened the 'fridge anyway and Rico – going too fast – ended up skidding into the icebox instead of ramming into the annoying lemur. Skipper rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Julien, what do you want?"

"I am looking for the snacks and fruity drinks, which should come to me, being as I am King of Things."

"Things? What things? Mort and his foot fetish? Get outta here!"

Rico had gotten out of the fridge, but was smacked in the head when Julien closed the door again. He got up, made a brief fighting stance, then appeared to get bored and went back to his bunk. "I do come with some very important and interesting news for you all. I saw Alice the Crazy Zookeeper Lady today carrying a crate with a picture of silly penguins on it, and she was coming toward your little inferior enclosure." He popped open a can of fruit juice and drank it down, smacking his lips happily. He peered at the penguins, then at the box. "Oh, you are building me a brigantine! How very nice of you! Paint it bright green with yellow polka dots and call it HMS King Julien. I like polka dots."

Private and Kowalski looked at each other, bewildered. How on earth did Julien know what a brigantine was? "This will be _our_ brigantine," Skipper informed Julien. "But it could end up in a very uncomfortable orifice of _yours_ if you don't get out of here!"

"Calm down, Skipper," Kowalski admonished. "Don't let the madman get to you." He turned to Julien. "Alice is bringing a crate to our habitat?"

"Yes, yes…whatever. I leave now, and will be waiting very expectantly for my brigantine…and some macaroons, too!" He jumped back into the escape hatch and closed the door. Private's first prize clattered to the floor. Skipper smacked his flipper to his forehead, rubbing for a moment to get rid of a mild headache, before returning to the task of assembling Private's ship. He remained outwardly calm about the crate, seeing no reason to get excited about anything until time to completely panic. The other penguins, however, were watching him carefully.

"What?!" he finally asked everyone, irritated. The mainsail in his flippers snapped in two. "Look! Now it's a two-masted brigadoo-brigantine!" He sighed, giving in to the other penguins' pleading stares. "Private, go do some recon and report back immediately."

"Yes sir!" Private saluted, forsaking his ship, and jumped out into the water, eager to see what was going on outside. Skipper returned to reading the instructions. "Many happy hours will be needed to assembly this brigadier. Put aside any tasks of maximillian importace, disconnection phones, quit jobs, and be requesting extensions on filing deadlines of income tax returns…"

Private swam around for a while, not daring at first to peer onto the rock, but finally he screwed up all his courage and pulled up to a have a good look. Indeed, a crate had been placed on the rock, and one side was open. But there was no movement inside. He did notice that several people had gathered around their enclosure, watching. For what? He climbed up and waddled over, his curiosity overcoming his natural wariness. He peered inside and was startled to see _four_ pairs of eyes staring back at him.

"Hello," he said, wanting to be as friendly as possible while not resembling prey of any kind.

"Hello," the figures inside all answered back in unison.

"My name's Private. Come on out, it's okay. We're very friendly here."

Finally, nervously, the four figures moved out of the crate and onto the rock. Skipper was stunned – they were all females! Female penguins! He didn't know what to do, so he just stared. They all stared back. The apparent leader of the group stepped forward with startling confidence. She was about Private's height, but thinner, with a look of steely determination about her, though she was quite feminine. "I'm Rosie. This…" she nodded toward a taller, slightly awkward looking female with a tiny black mark on her otherwise shiny white chest, "Is Isabelle. This is Charlotte," she indicated a younger female just barely out of her chick down. "And that's Gracie," she pointed toward a plump and obviously older female. "Our Mom."

Alice, removing the ramp, smiled happily. "That'll give those boys something to do from now on besides eat popcorn," she told another zookeeper, who grinned. "Now, on to the lemurs!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

PART 2

Julien was cleaning his nails and keeping a careful eye on Mort, whose expression indicated a foot attack pending, when he noticed Alice the Crazy Zookeeper Lady coming toward his enclosure. Frowning, he settled back in his throne and casually scratched his stomach, pretending to be totally disinterested. But he grew increasingly alarmed as Alice carried a large crate in and settled it on the grass beside his Bouncy.

Still keeping a bored expression on his face, he nonetheless leaned forward and carefully examined the crate. Alice was undoing the side, whistling as she worked. Finally, the side was completely open and the zookeeper left. He took another sip of his fruit drink. "Maurice! Be investigating what is in that box, and if it is displeasing to me, tell it to _go away_."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Maurice shrugged and made his way down to the grass. Whatever was in the box wasn't moving, and he finally decided to call it out and then tell it go back inside and go away.

"Hello!" He cleared his throat. "Helloooooo…."

"I said to be making it go away, not helloing it," Julien said from beside Maurice. The rotund little lemur glared up at Julien, who scratched his ears and continued to try to look bored with the whole thing. But Maurice could tell the king was extremely nervous. "Do you smell that? It smells different. It smells like…oh, dear…mercy of mercies!"

"What? What is it?" Maurice turned back to the crate and saw three female lemurs stepping carefully into the sunlight. One was his own size and shape, which made Maurice's heart start pounding with excitement. There was also a female who resembled Julien a great deal, except that her coloring was black and white, and her eyes were framed by long lashes. She studied Maurice and Julien carefully before sitting down and checking to see that her companions were all right – she was obviously the one in charge. The other lemur was Mort's size, cinnamon colored, and possessing huge blue eyes. "Oh. My. God."

"It's _girls_! Run!" Julien screamed, and dashed away, climbing up onto his platform and hiding behind his throne.

"Oh. That went well," the black and white lemur said, rolling her eyes. The other two lemurs giggled.

Mort jumped down from his spot in the tree and peered, wide-eyed and instantly smitten, with the littlest lemur. "Hi. My name's Mort."

"My name's Gigi." She had a squeaky but pleasant voice, but she hardly seemed much brighter than Mort.

"Hi! I like Gigi!" He blinked, his little hands folded in an ecstatic clasp.

Gigi looked amused. "Do you? You don't even know me."

"I don't need to know to _like_," Mort said sweetly. "Would you like me to show you my spot in the tree? It's very nice!" He looked down at her feet. "I like your feet!"

"Sure…uh…Mort." She looked back at the other two females. "See ya gals."

"Take care," said the larger lemur. "Hi, uh…what's your name?"

"Maurice."

"Ah. The gangster of love, huh?"

"What? Uh…" Maurice was still staring, transfixed, at the shorter lemur. "Sure. Yes. I am. I am the gangster of love." He grinned ingratiatingly.

"This is Esmerelda," the larger lemur said, clearly disgusted. "Esmerelda, this is Maurice, the gangster of love, who as we all can see possesses overwhelming powers of conversation. Why, I can barely get a word in edgewise."

Esmerelda just laughed, which made Maurice want to sit down and wiggle. "Oh, hush, Frances. Say, Maurice, where is _your_ spot in this habitat?"

"My spot? Oh. Yes. I have a spot. And…uh…it's…it's in this enclosure. Which is, naturally, where it would be. My spot. Here."

"Yes. Truly, you possess a razor-sharp conversational sword, Maurice. Come on. Tell me all about your spot." She batted her eyelashes at him and Maurice followed Esmerelda as she went exploring, trying to find his spot.

Frances sat still for a moment, ears telescoping, listening. After a while, finding nothing terribly alarming, she began grooming herself carefully, but keeping an eye out for the nutjob with the crown. After a while, just as she expected, she saw his head poking out from behind what looked like a...was that a bar? Hmm...smoothies, she thought with a smile. Then she sighed and looked at the Bouncy. She had had a Bouncy back in San Diego, and had enjoyed it, but she hadn't gone around wearing a crown or acting like some raving loon. She had been pretty far down the pecking order back there, even though her grandmother had been Queen Lemur.

"Hi," she said, trying not to be too threatening. What, did she think she was going to chase him down and kiss him? Give him cooties, maybe? She smiled. That'd probably be fun. Despite clearly being a nutter, this guy was kind of cute.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded, still hiding behind the bar.

"The Planet Xaxu," she replied. "I was Queen there. All the Xaxuites worshipped the ground I walked on." She continued grooming. No use wasting time on looking proper. Her mother had pounded good hygiene and manners into Frances, and those lessons had stuck. Not that her sassy nature had ever been repressed, even by her grandmother, who had been twice as bad about propriety.

"You were Queen? I am King _here_," he said. He bounced up to her, doing his best to appear threatening. She found that extremely amusing - this 'King' seemed about as threatening as a sack of puppies. And probably about as mature. "I am King of the Lemurs. And…all of here." He gestured widely, indicating the entire zoo with an extravagant sweep of his arm. Frances covered a smile. So he's also delusional, she thought.

"Well, turn me upside down and paint me unimpressed. I, Your Nuttiness, am from a long line of royalty. My uncle is King of the Lemurs in San Diego. Maybe you've heard of him? King Victor?"

"No, I have not heard of him. Why would I be hearing of him? He has heard of me, though! My name is His Most Royal and Gracious and…and Spectacular Majesty the King Julien the Thirteenth of…of _all _the Lemurs! Ask him and he will tell you that _I _am very definitely King of all the Lemurs!"

"All the lemurs? That'd be news to Uncle Victor," she said rolling her eyes. "My name's Frances."

"How, Miss Smarty Cutie, can he be King of the Lemurs when _I_ am the King of the Lemurs!" Julien snapped, vexed. "I have been King all my life. Well, since…since my…" He frowned. One thing Julien _never, ever_ talked about was his mother. He didn't like unpleasant things. This Frances seemed unpleasant to him. He examined her carefully. Yes. Pretty and very smart and she had nice brown eyes, but she was _unpleasant_.

Frances sensed that Julien didn't like talking about something there, and decided to drop it. "And by the way, when I said I _was_ Queen of all the Lemurs, I wasn't speaking in the past tense, Your Royal Loopiness. I am still the Queen. Queen of all the Lemurs! And surely _you_ know that Queens outrank Kings!"

She rubbed her nose and watched Julien's expression go from wonder to anger to apoplectic rage. "You! You have no right to be speaking to me this way! I am King of the Lemurs…and of Things!"

"Things? What things?"

"Well, Mort and his foot fetish for one thing," Julien said, rubbing his chin. "But I am King of all the animals here."

"Is there a lion here? You know: King of the Beasts."

"A what? No! No lions here." He smiled, happy to know that Alex was far away in Africa. "No fasoos here, either."

"Fasoos?" She raised an eyebrow, which Julien found utterly bewitching.

"Yes." He crossed his arms and smiled, hoping she might find his smile equally charming. "I was king of them, too."

"My grandmother told me about fasoos, Your Crackerness, and they _ate_ lemurs." She stood up and looked him right in the eye, which made Julien start trembling with something other than fear or anger. "So I'd be hard pressed to say that you're king of _all_ things, but I'll say this: you're definitely king of wild-eyed loons and _jerks._" With that, Frances turned and marched away in search of her friends.


	3. Chapter 3

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

"Skipper! Skipper!"

Everyone looked up from the brigandine to see Private running inside, eyes wide with terror. "Skipper, there's…it's…"

"It's what?" Skipper snatched a piece of the model ship away from Rico before he could eat it. "That's not food!"

"It's…oh, dear heavens…it's…they're…"

"They're…?" Skipper prompted patiently, knowing Private was in a full-on panic. "What are they?"

"_Females_," Private whispered. "Four female penguins!"

"Red alert!" Skipper shouted, forgetting the brigandine. He started forward and then realized his flippers were glued together. He tried to pull them apart but failed, and after a moment of fruitless flapping and growling, he sighed. "Rico, get me some nail polish remover!" He then realized what an irrational demand that was – Rico didn't wear nail polish. Rico shrugged helplessly while Kowalski and Private rushed up the ladder to see the females. Rico rushed away, too, leaving Skipper alone and glued to himself.

"Well, this stinks," Skipper muttered to himself.

Private, trembling with nervousness, lead his two friends back up onto the rock and gestured toward the group of females standing near the edge, looking down at the water. They could hear them talking.

"I think it's very nice here, actually," the older penguin was saying. "It's very clean and well-maintained, the keepers seem…er…competent…and look!" Alice was throwing fish into the enclosure. "Plenty of food. For heaven's sake, Rosie, don't be so pessimistic. I know you miss the Houston Zoo, but we have to make the best out of things."

Rosie frowned. "I'm just not sure I'm really cut out for life in _New York_." Indeed, Rosie had a strong Texas twang. She fluffed her feathers a little and preened, a sign of real nervousness. "And what if the male penguins don't like us? What do we do then? Draw a line through the middle of the enclosure?"

"Well…" Gracie shrugged and looked behind her. "I think that the way to find out of if they like us or not is to introduce ourselves." She gestured two Private, Kowalski and Rico. "There's three. Hey, I was told there were four. Where's the fourth guy?" She wasn't pleased to think that one of her daughters might be left out in the cold.

Charlotte, small and shy, hid behind her older sister Isabelle and squeaked with fear. But Gracie would have no foolishness out of her daughters. "Come on now, girls, let's be brave. I'm sure they're all very nice." She nudged her offspring forward and they walked over to the three males. "Hello!" she called. "I'm Gracie, and these are my daughters Rosie, Isabelle and Charlotte."

"Girls!" Rico squawked. Gracie smiled at him, amused.

"Allo," Private finally managed. He peered at little Charlotte for a moment before turning his attention to Gracie. "I'm Private and this is Rico and this is Kowalski." He smiled happily at them all, delighted at the chance to make new friends.

Kowalski, feeling obligated to take the lead in Skipper's absence, stepped forward and extended a flipper. "It's very nice to meet you all." He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but restrained himself and waited for a response.

Rosie stepped forward and shook his flipper, her bold and confident nature taking over. "We're from the Houston Zoo."

"Oh. We're from…" Private thought a moment. "Here."

"Right." Gracie nodded. "All your life, then?"

"Yes. Yes, ma'am," Kowalski nodded, but he was becoming more and more fascinated with Isabelle. He had never seen a penguin with a black mark on her chest. He had also never seen a penguin who was quite so pretty.

"Eyes _up_, Kowalski," Isabelle said, but there was a trace of good humor in her voice. "The mark is a genetic aberration."

"Ab-aberration?" Kowalski answered, feeling light-headed. "I like aberrations, actually. They're…aberrant. And…uh…really…neat."

"I gathered that," Isabelle said with a giggle. Gracie gave her daughter a warning look. They all turned when they heard a loud splash and angry spluttering. Skipper waddled up to them all, fury in his eyes, his flippers still stuck together. When he saw the four females, he squawked, lost his balance and fell flat on his face.

"Oh, my," Gracie said, rushing forward to help him up. "Good gracious, whatever happened to you?"

Skipper jerked away from her and glared around, first at his men for having abandoned him, then at the females. But his expression softened as he studied them all. Particularly when he saw how young and shy little Charlotte was, and he smiled a little when he saw Rosie's concerned expression.

"I got my flippers stuck together," he said miserably. "We were…I mean, who are you?" he demanded, pulling himself back together. He was the leader, not some marshmallow!

Private happily introduced them all, elated that there was nothing to fear. "Skipper's our leader."

"What are you, like, some kind of elite commando unit or something?" Rosie asked, amused.

"Yes. And don't you forget it, sister," Skipper replied smoothly.

"I'm sure I won't," she answered with a smile. That annoyed Skipper a little. He _was_ the leader of an elite unit, whether she found it amusing or not.

"We were on a mission a minute ago, actually. We were…uh…building a…model ship." Skipper felt foolish. Some mission. All he'd managed to do so far was break the mainsail and glue himself together. It was Caracas all over again. Minus the glue.

"Oh, a model ship!" Charlotte squeaked, excited. "I love model ships. I built several back in Houston!"

"You did?" Private was amazed. "Are they hard?"

"Oh, they're easy. It just takes patience and a steady hand…er, flipper. Come on! Show me…please?" Charlotte had a childishly sweet voice and a happy manner, much like Private. Skipper figured they'd form a good friendship, which he figured was a good thing – Private needed a friend his own age. He eyed the other three females, but couldn't keep from looking more closely at Rosie. Private and Charlotte left together. Rico was becoming flushed under Gracie's mothering, and Kowalski was discussing aberrations with Isabelle. They all turned to Skipper when he spoke again.

"Any of you ladies have anything that removes glue?"

Rico coughed up a stick of dynamite, but Skipper snuffed out the flame.

"I mean remove the glue, Rico, not my flippers."

Rosie shook her head. Male penguins – they were all the same: either crazy or far too aggressive. Rico seemed like a firebug of the worst kind. This Skipper fellow seemed all right, but she sensed that in another life he had been a drill sergeant. Private was adorable, though. She had to admit that. But Skipper's flippers were stuck together, and that wasn't a good thing. "I might have something. I have five brothers – they were constantly getting stuck to themselves."

Skipper followed her to the crate. "They built a lot of model ships, did they?"

"No. I think they just liked the sniff the glue. Which I guess explains them always getting stuck to themselves. I love my brothers, but Lord, they were dumb as boxes of dirt. The eldest, Mike…we used to joke that Mom didn't drop him, but very likely _threw_ him." She found her little bottle of nail polish remover and applied it to Skipper's flippers. They immediately came apart and he looked pleased.

"Well, thank you," he nodded. "That was a lot better than I expected."

Rosie laughed, and Skipper blushed.

"So Gracie is your mother?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Yes. Our father died last year, just after Charlotte was born. Dad was a talker. He was a great father…but he loved to talk. Drove Mom nuts sometimes, but penguins do mate for life and…" She suddenly realized what she was saying and blushed. "Anyway, after Dad died the zoo in Houston decided we needed to move away so we wouldn't be interbree-…er, well, there weren't any more male-…I mean, well…we…we're here!" She smiled, hoping he would get the hint that she was embarrassed.

Skipper, still flushed and feeling a little dizzy (he tried to attribute it to the nail polish remover), nodded vigorously. "Of course. Right. You're here. Welcome to the Central Park Zoo. Watch for the lemurs, they're crazy with a side of nuts, but the otter is nice. I'm sure she'll be by soon with flowers and a cake…she's like that. Don't ask. I don't get it either. Uh…" He cast about. "So I guess you'll want to scope out a place to sleep downstairs. There's four bunks, but they're…"

"Yours," she nodded. "It's okay. We'll figure something out."

"Right. Exactly. Definitely. So…er…follow me. Ladies?" He called to the other three females and they all followed him down to the headquarters, with Rico, Private and a besotted Kowalski bringing up the rear.


	4. Chapter 4

Julien didn't feel like dancing to music from his boomy box. He didn't feel like bouncing. He didn't even feel like paying a 'visit' to his neighbors the silly penguins. He just wanted to sit on his throne and watch Frances very carefully while also ignoring her completely. He ate a nut sometimes, but generally he felt bored and miserable and elated and completely confused.

A jerk. She had called him – the King! – a jerk! His ears flattened with irritation. He was not a jerk! He was spectacular! Handsome and clever and very, very humble. Obviously, _she _was the jerk, then. She didn't even seem to want to bounce on the Bouncy, though he wanted to go ask if she'd like to bounce with him.

"Mort!" he shouted. "Mort…Maurice! Where are you? I do have the laziest assistants!"

Finally, Maurice emerged from a shady spot under the tree. His face was covered with lipstick kisses and he wore an expression of utter bliss. "Uh…yes Your…whatever your name i-…er, Your Majesty?" he said dreamily.

"What is going on here?" Julien shouted at him. "You and Mort are acting like crazies. And where is Mort?"

They heard giggling and rustling in a branch above, and Mort teetered out, eyes twice as wide as usual. "Someone is calling me?" Gigi emerged behind him, tickled him and dashed back into the shadows. Mort forgot all about being summoned and went back to his new 'friend'.

Julien shook his head. "Mort, I don't know what I'm going to…oh, never mind. Go back to your silly girls!" he snapped. He turned away from them and sulked on his throne. But he kept careful watch on Frances, who was still sitting in the shade by the Bouncy, looking at herself in a mirror and going through a grooming routine that even Julien would have trouble matching. She glanced up at him, and he turned away, huffing indignantly and blushing pink.

Frances wiggled her toes and stood up, satisfied that she was at her very best – she knew she was uncommonly pretty. She ambled over to the Bouncy and climbed up onto it. At first, she tested it before determining that it was bouncy enough, and she began jumping up and down. Julien was immediately electrified, sitting up straight and watching her intently.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. "You did not ask for the permissions to bounce on my Bouncy!"

"Stop me then," she answered coolly. "Or is this just one of those 'things' you're king of?"

"I am king of all things!" he countered. "All things!" He rushed down and jumped onto the Bouncy. He matched her bounces all right, but she struck more dramatic poses and was completely fearless, moving around the Bouncy with great agility. Julien forgot to have fun, but began a bouncing contest – until he lost his balance during a particularly high jump, miscalculated his landing and ended up flat on his back in the grass, the wind knocked out of him. "Ooof…"

"You okay, Kingy?" she called, concerned.

"It's Julien!" he called back. "My name is _King_ Julien!"

She climbed down to make sure he was all right, and Julien skittered away. Frances appeared to find this amusing, because she gave chase, and Julien squealed and took off again. Soon the chase became more of a game, with him dodging and hiding behind anything he could find, and Frances easily finding him. He forgot all about being angry and hurt and ended up having fun. "Tag, you're it!" he yelled, when he managed to slip behind her and touch her shoulder. Her fur was soft and silky. For a brief moment, the two lemurs stared at each other, transfixed, until Julien panicked again and took off running.

Frances chased him down, tagged him, and ran away again, with Julien in hot pursuit. "I'll be catching you! You never can get away from me, for I am the great King Julien!" But she was far too fast for him, and he had to stop to catch his breath. His shook his fist at her. "The great King Julien perhaps is _not_ king of the exercise gym!" He puffed and sat down. Frances, swinging from branch to branch in a tree above, only laughed and mocked Julien. "Maybe Julien could be...huff...king of the...the fat farm."

Esmerelda, watching from Maurice's new 'spot' in the tree, shook her head. "Frances has plumb forgot to be an old stick in the mud," she laughed.

***

Skipper showed the ladies around, feeling rather gallant in his role as host. But it didn't take long for him to realize that these guests weren't guests at all, but were instead _permanent_. Why on earth would the zoo bring four female peng-…oh, right, he thought. Right. Good grief. He stood in the middle of the room and stared, wide-eyed, as the girls discussed sleeping arrangements on the ledge. Kowalski had already found blankets for them, and was comparing their textures and colors with Isabelle. Private was at the table, intently working on the brigantine with little Charlotte, who was so small she could barely see over the edge of the table but clearly had found a hero in the slightly older penguin. Rico was listening to Gracie talk, and he looked like he'd be happy to let her talk forever so long as she'd allow him to listen.

Skipper did his best to not look too closely at Rosie, but that was impossible. It'd be like not looking at…say, a brand new stash of weapons. She was that interesting. Skipper had blocked females from his mind for a long time, but with four of them living under his roof, and one of them being particularly attractive, it wasn't like he could easily block the subject out any more, and while he was determined to not be a marshmallow, he was a male, and male penguins did eventually... He smacked himself on the forehead. This could get downright complicated. Even more bewildering and exciting, Rosie had an air of command about her that Skipper liked a lot. She didn't look the sort to get all queasy during a hard mission.

"All right, men, fall in!" he shouted, determined to break up this cozy little domestic scene. They were soldiers! An elite force! Not decorators! This wasn't freakin' HGTV!

Skipper did _not_ like how slowly and reluctantly his men gathered around him. "It's time for recon tonight. We're gonna investigate the lemurs next door – see if they're all as loony as Ring-Tail. Kowalski, you take point. And no sidetracking over to the dolphin aquarium." Skipper smiled smugly – but felt a twinge of guilt – at Kowalski's startled look.

"Dolphin…?" Kowalski rubbed the back of his neck. "Why would I go _there_, sir?" he whispered, hoping Isabelle wouldn't overhear.

"Oh, I dunno. 'Cause you've got a freak-on for a dolphin named Doris?" Skipper answered loudly.

Isabelle's eyes widened and she looked at her mother, who rolled her eyes.

"Well…" Kowalski huffed. "At least I didn't marry a wooden bobble-head doll!"

"Insubordination!" Skipper shouted. "Are you actually talking back to me?!"

"I mean, really, who marries a wooden doll?" Kowalski asked, emboldened by anger and not a few hormones. "Skipper, for the love of Harry Houdini, they're _real_," he said, gesturing toward the females. "Real, live, honest-to-goodness _females_! Attractive, intelligent females! I would think you'd be elated! But no! You're being a raving psychotic, _just like usual_!"

Just then, Marlene bustled in, carrying a bouquet of roses and a cake. She was all smiles until she saw Skipper and Kowalski beak to beak, looking like they were just inches from a full-blown fight. Private wore a distressed expression, and Rico looked uneasy. "Hey, hey, what's going on here?" she asked, pushing the two combatants apart.

"Ask Skipper's wife _the wooden doll_!" Kowalski snarled.

"She's not my wife any more!" Skipper shouted back, indignant.

"You married a wooden doll?" Rosie asked, her voice causing Skipper to jump. His shoulders sagged.

"I was desper-…I mean, it was Africa. How many penguins are in Africa? Tell me. Give me a rough count. Anybody!"

"Aren't there penguins on the southern coasts?" Private said, hoping to be helpful.

"Rico!" Skipper snapped. Rico dutifully - but rather gently - smacked Private. "Ah. Perhaps I was thinking of Argentina..."

Marlene, deciding that the wooden doll was a matter left discussed at a later time – maybe in a shrink's office with the blinds drawn – stepped forward. "Okay, okay…I'm just here to say hello and extend a very warm greeting to our new neighbors. My name's Marlene, and I'm _otterly_ thrilled to meet you all and yes, that's an extremely bad pun." She smiled and handed the cake to Gracie, who smiled back.

"Thank you, Marlene. I'm Gracie, and these are my daughters Rosie, Isabelle and Charlotte." She gestured toward her children with undisguised pride. "We got here today."

"I see…from…?"

"Houston. We outgrew our exhibit." Sadness shadowed her face for a moment, as she remembering parting with her sons. She had loved them, even if they had, for the most part, been buffoons.

"Ah…" Marlene glanced at Skipper, who was still fuming. Kowalski had stalked away to be alone. A tense silence filled the room until it was about to burst. Finally, Rosie stepped forward.

"It's very nice to meet a _sane_ person around here," she said, loudly enough for Skipper to hear. "So…you're an otter…" She looked to be at a lack for further statements on that biological fact, and cast about. "So what's it like to be a _sane_ otter?"

"It's…uh…fun!" She smiled widely, glancing nervously at Skipper, who didn't look extremely sane at the moment. He looked as irritated as he generally did when Julien was getting on his nerves. "But…er…you know, there's lots of sane…um…animals around here. There's…er…the giraffes. And the elephants. Oh, and the chameleons, though they tend to vanish on you a lot, right when you're talking to them, which can be a little…nerve-wracking. One minute, they're there, next minute, they're…not."

"Right…" Rosie studied Marlene for a second, deciding that maybe the otter wasn't quite as a sane as she thought. Giraffes?

"Anyhow, I'm on my way to go meet the new lemurs, too. Anybody want to come with me?" she said, indicating the male penguins as well. Skipper muttered under his breath and turned away, still seething. Kowalski, turning on the TV, said nothing. Only Private and Rico looked interested in going, but they glanced at their leader, wondering if he'd allow it.

"Fine, fine, go!" he snapped at last. Quickly, the penguins – including Kowalski, who didn't want to be left alone with Skipper, for fear of doing something rash – left and Skipper found himself completely alone.

"Alone again, naturally," he said to himself. He remembered that song. He hated that song!

Years ago, he had had a brief fling with a pretty little penguin named Susan, and he had never revealed that particular _affaire de Coeur_ to anyone, but it had ended badly. A lot had to do with incompatibility (she _liked_ disco and thought Sinatra was a bad singer…_Sinatra_!) but in the end it had been about something Skipper hadn't been able to handle at all. In the end, he had ended up alone.

And here he was again. Alone.

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He smacked himself on the forehead a few times. "Phhh…I really need to remember that it hurts when I do that!"


	5. Chapter 5

Marlene was extremely curious about the new female lemurs, but she noted that the penguins were all pretty interested, too. Even Kowalski – who quietly loathed Julien – seemed extra eager to see what the 'four-legged mammals' were like. As they made their way to the lemur enclosure, Marlene queried a pensive Private about the argument that had been going on back in the penguin HQ.

"Oh, it was just…it was…um…Skipper and Kowalski just don't always see eye to eye," he finally answered.

"They were eye to eye back there. They looked ready to rumble, in fact." They all climbed over the fence into the lemurs' territory. "And Skipper was married to a…did he say it was a _doll_?"

"Yes, but please…don't bring it up! Skipper gets really testy!"

"When does Skipper not get testy?" Marlene rolled her eyes. Penguins and otter alike came to a screeching halt inside the lemur habitat when Julien raced by, followed by a black and white lemur who was _wearing his crown_! "Oh, my!" Marlene gasped.

"I've got your crown, Kingy!" the female lemur shouted. "Come and get it back, or are ya too slow?"

"I will be getting my crown back, and then you will be properly worshipful of my majesty!" Julien shouted back. But he didn't sound all that angry. In fact, he sounded like he was enjoying himself. At least, until he saw the visitors. He stopped and sat down so suddenly that the female lemur, not watching where she was going, plowed into him and knocked him flat on his back. The crown went rolling across the enclosure, and sat forgotten and unloved in the corner while Julien tried to compose himself. The female lemur sashayed over to them and extended a polite greeting.

"Hi, I'm Frances. Oh, hi girls," she nodded at the female penguins. "You're settling in well?"

"Uh…yeah. As well as can be expected," Rosie said, shrugging. "Still airsick?"

"Oh, thank heavens, that passed when we got the airport," Frances answered with a laugh. "I seriously thought I was going to die, though. Horrible! Do you like it here?"

"It's very nice. Very clean," Gracie told the lemur.

"You always were into cleanliness."

"I'm a bird. Birds are clean freaks."

Frances sat down and began smoothing her slightly ruffled fur. Julien walked over, still crownless, and put his hands on his hips.

"I see you are all here to celebrate the arrival of _three_ glorious lemurs," he said, smiling happily. Frances glanced up at him, hiding a little smile, and resumed grooming.

"I only see one glorious lemur," Private pointed at Frances, who looked even more pleased. Julien looked a little less than pleased.

"Hello! I am the glorious lemur!" He pointed at the tree. "The other two lemurs are up there, with Maurice and Mort, neither of whom are very glorious but they do bask in mine to make themselves glorious."

Frances called her companions, and the two female lemurs came down, followed by their entranced _beaux_. Marlene coughed to cover a laugh. Mort was obviously wildly in love with Gigi, who appeared to share the sentiment, because she was holding his hand and making goo-goo eyes at him. Esmerelda seemed just as enchanted with Maurice, who didn't seem to notice that his face was still covered with lipstick kisses. He and Mort both looked utterly goofy, but didn't seem to care.

The only one who didn't appear to be entranced with anyone was Frances. She finally finished making herself presentable and nodded at Julien. "The 'King' lost his crown. First one gets it gets to be king!"

Julien looked horrified. "My crown!" He felt around on top of his head, as if expecting the crown to suddenly appear, and barked at Maurice. "Maurice! Be finding my crown at this instant!"

"Uh…huh? Oh. Crown. Let's see…oh, there it is. In the corner." He pointed vaguely toward the crown, but didn't move toward it. Julien glowered at him, miffed, and finally marched over to it. He put it back on and turned back to look at Frances, hoping that she'd be impressed with how he looked. She only rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help thinking that he _did _look rather handsome with that crown on. Some lemurs couldn't wear a crown without looking either silly or uncomfortable (her uncle had always worn his with a look of misgiving), but Julien – he actually did kind of pull it off with a kind of…well, _élan_.

"Remember, Frances," Gracie whispered. "Behind every great man is a woman rolling her eyes."

Frances giggled. Maurice and Esmerelda wandered away together. Only Mort and Gigi stayed, and Marlene suggested spreading the word around for an official meet'n greet in the Zoovenir Shop tomorrow night, which everyone agreed to. Kowalski, still feeling a bit shaken by his argument with Skipper, took Isabelle aside.

"We don't usually argue like that, Isabelle. We're usually very…well…we're more like…a…uh…family. I suppose families argue sometimes. Right?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely." Isabelle smiled. "Chosie and Rarlette…I mean, Rosie and Charlotte …they get into tiffs at times…"

"What did you say?"

"I said Rosie and Charlotte…" She put her flippers to her cheeks, mortified.

"Was that a Spoonerism?" His eyes were wide with wonder and admiration.

Isabelle flushed and looked at her feet. "Yes. I do that all the time. It's…so embarrassing! I've been _mal appropo_ since I was a chick: I walk in at the wrong time, right in the middle of conversations that maybe I shouldn't even be _hearing_ and get it all wrong and next thing you know, Mom thinks Rosie is about to have a chick – she really said that she liked her fish stew really thick - and Charlotte is getting a tattoo. Rosie never had a chick, and I don't think Charlotte has a tattoo. She had just said that she was scared of baboons…did I also mention I have bad hearing?"

Kowalski thought everything Isabelle was saying was _adorable_. "Do you think you could do some _more_ Spoonerisms?"

***

Skipper paced back and forth in the HQ, agitated and nervous and angry. And getting angrier. Kowalski had been way out of line, bringing up the doll, for one thing. Of course, he probably shouldn't have said anything about Doris. That was way in the past, and Kowalski was clearly not all that interested in a dolphin any more, now that there was a real-life female penguin in the habitat.

He thought briefly of Rosie, and stopped in his tracks. He _had_ sounded like a raving psychotic, hadn't he?

All his anger vanished and he went to the fridge to look for something to eat. He heard splashing and excited chatter, and turned to see everyone returning, except for Marlene.

"Well, I see everyone has returned," he said, bracing himself for what he knew he had to do. "Kowalski, a minute?"

The taller penguin waddled to Skipper, bristling only a little. Skipper laid a flipper on Kowalski's shoulder. "I…uh…I just wanted to…uh…" He winced, unable to go on. He was no good at admitting he was wrong.

"Apologize?" Kowalski raised one eyebrow.

"Yeah. That."

"So you're saying you're sorry?"

"I suppose you could put it that way, if you're so inclined."

Kowalski knew not to push any further. He saluted and waddled away, looking much happier. Skipper sighed, relieved that that was over. He straightened when Rosie came over, easing away from her mother and sisters as they discussed sleeping arrangements. "So you married…a doll?"

"Can we just, maybe, drop that? Like, forever or something?"

She struggled to keep from laughing. "Okay, okay. I won't bring it up again. But let's face it – we all know why we're here."

"Yes. I do know." He gave her a hard look, determined to cover his nervous and his unaccountable attack of shy giddiness. "I also remember what happened down in the National Zoo in Washington. Remember Ling-Ling and Sing-Sing, and how those zookeepers tried for years to get those two pandas to make a little Thing-Thing? Well, it never happened! Wanna know why?"

"Because the pandas were both males, according to the rumors I heard. Quite a practical joke from the Chinese."

"Because those two pandas _hated_ each other, that's why! Ling-Ling was really big into covert operations, and Sing-Sing just wanted to sit around playing paddy-cake and talk about babies! No macho guy is going to get into…into…well, playing paddy-cake! I'm not going to! Kowalski might. Private definitely would. Rico might…but then he might also blow something up….but I don't!"

"I don't play paddy-cake," Rosie said coolly. "The occasional hand of Stomp the Wombat, maybe, but never paddy-cake. I do like word-games, though."

"You don't pl-…word games?"

"Yep. I love 'em. Wanna hear one now? I just made it up!"

Skipper was caught off guard. She was just _lovely_, with those beautiful eyes and that calm, steady confidence. He shook his head, trying to clear it, before he got all goofy and said something stupid. "Sure…"

"Did you hear about the mafia hit that took place in a rice field? The murder weapon turned out to be a porcelain figurine. It was the first-ever case of a knick-knack paddy whack!"

He stared at her, processing the joke and trying – desperately, to the point of stomach pain – to not laugh. But it was hopeless. He snickered and she giggled.

"I know. It was pretty dumb. But my sisters and I always had fun, playing games. Our brothers were always off tearing something up or generally just being stupid, so we'd sit around talking and making up jokes and puns and silly stuff. Charlotte is _remarkable_ at just not getting it, so one time we told her we'd put a stamp on her forehead that read 'I Don't Get It'. And she didn't get it! But we love her to death. She's so sweet – I think we know she's Private's type. Isabelle is the brainy one – no wonder Kowalski likes her, but she's always saying the wrong thing or mixing her words up: it's a case of the brain working too fast for the mouth to keep up with, you know? Just don't laugh at her – she bruises like that old Russian royalty." She fluffed her feather's a bit. "But don't think I'm really all that into _you_, Mister. You're just not my type at all."

"Right…" Skipper felt even more giddy and even vaguely delirious. Not into him? Wasn't her type? What?! He was the only one left, unless she into pyromaniacal types like Rico. He admired Rosie's love for her sisters, though. Loyalty was a valuable and rare quality. "Right. I'm definitely not your type. And you're not mine, either, Sister!" He nodded emphatically, noting that her cool expression didn't change at all. "Uh…anyway…my men and I are up for recon tomorrow, bright and early, so we'd all better get to bed." He turned and clapped his flippers, drawing Kowalski and Private's attention. "Come on men…it's zero hour, off to bed!"

Rico grumbled about leaving the still chattering Gracie. Private said a warm goodnight to little Charlotte, who squeaked a soft response before climbing up to the ledge to settle in beside her mother. Rosie left Skipper to take a place beside Isabelle, who gave Kowalski a little wave before the lights were turned off.

Skipper lay in his bunk, thinking about Rosie's eyes and her intelligence and realized that she was the first person to have made him laugh out loud in years.

Ling-Ling and Sing-Sing hadn't made their Thing-Thing, Skipper thought before drifting off to sleep. But things could start happening around here, no matter how much he and his men tried to stop them.


	6. Chapter 6

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

Part 6

Some major changes are occurring in the balance of power – and insanity – at the Central Park Zoo. Another penguin is coming for a visit, for one thing, and that could mean serious trouble for a certain couple.

***

Skipper and Kowalski were doing recon in the morning, looking for any signs of trouble. They made no mention of last evening's argument, which relieved Kowalski immensely and eased Skipper's nascent headache quite a bit. They observed the monkeys eating breakfast and apparently arguing over the difference between Dole and Chiquita bananas ("One was a Senator. The other is a song by ABBA. Now tell me how there's even the slightest comparison?!"). They dropped in on Marlene, waking her up and scaring her half to death. She promptly threw them out, mumbling something about how it was unfair that they and the lemurs got females while all she had was fish and an inner tube. Giving up on finding anything to worry about, they moved on to the lemur enclosure, where the came upon Julien and Frances bickering.

"Now why you feel the need to play that music _all night long_ is a mystery to me, but I have to live here, too, as do Esmerelda and Gigi, and we'd sort of like to sleep sometimes. Otherwise it's psychotic episodes and lemurs on the roof with deer rifles taking aim at delusional kings wearing Carmen Miranda's hat. So turn the music off at a reasonable hour or I swear I'll kill you!"

Julien frowned, apparently a bit distracted. "I am the King and I will play my music because I like shaking my _attractive _booty. So do Mort and Maurice. Don't you?" He looked around for his assistant and the tiny mouse lemur, but they were nowhere to be found. He looked up in the tree. "Don't you?"

Gigi peered down at him and frowned. "He's asking you something," she whispered to Mort. "What's he talking about?"

"Who?" Mort answered sleepily.

"Julio? Juno? I can't remember his name."

"Oh, King Julien!" Mort scampered out and regarded his king with as respectful an expression as he could muster, but frankly – honestly – he would have great difficulty caring less. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"You enjoy shaking your booty to the music at night, am I right? You love it!"

Skipper and Kowalski jumped up onto Julien's platform, where Frances greeted them with a polite but agitated nod.

"I…uh…well, it's…sometimes I'd like to go to bed and…"

"What?!" Julien stood up, hands on his hips, aggrieved. "You love to shake your booty!"

"I like…" Mort giggled and looked back at Gigi, who smiled at him. "I love Gigi!"

"Aw, Mort, you're so sweet," she said, delighted. "I love you, too."

Mort giggled happily, having forgotten all about Julien. The lemur King fumed and turned back to Frances. "Look what you're doing! You're ruining my kingly authority!"

"Lemur, calm down, would ya?" Skipper interjected. "You never had any kingly authority, except for whatever you had flapping around in your head. This…it's just…ah…hormones. Nature's way."

Julien's eyelid twitched and he began to quake with fury, as if someone had just touched his royal feet. He pointed at Frances, who looked affronted at his rudeness. "This…this _creature_ is making my life miserable! She wants to me to turn off my boomy box at night!"

"Give the girl a medal!" Skipper said with a mischievous grin. "We all want you to turn it off, lower mammal. Maybe it's time you got over yourself a bit and left us all in peace."

Julien began to pace back and forth, ranting and raving about impossible females and disloyalty. Skipper shook his head, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the dippy king, but there wasn't much he could do about this. Kowalski was scribbling on his notepad, arousing Skipper's curiosity.

"What, soldier?"

"Options, sir. Frances doesn't like Julien, and Julien doesn't like Frances, so I suppose that eventually she'll be taken away…" He glanced at her, and saw her expression – one of shock and even a little hurt. "Or better yet, Julien might be taken away…" Julien stopped ranting and stared at him.

"I'll not have it!" Julien and Frances both shouted at once. "This is my home!" They turned and glared at each other. "You hush!"

"Wow, lunacy in stereo," Skipper muttered.

"Well, I'd rather be taken away and put in another zoo than live here with the likes of you! You're a lunatic! With bad taste in music to boot!" Frances shouted at Julien.

"Bad taste in mus-...! Fine then! I would glad to be ridding of you!" Julien shouted back.

"Ten halibut says those two have a little Thing-Thing within a year," Skipper rolled his eyes at Kowalski, who sniggered.

"Get out of here!" Julien and Frances yelled at them.

"Yeah, let's leave the King and Queen alone with their madness." The two penguins somersaulted off the platform and made their way back home.

***

Skipper was reading through some training manuals when he heard a commotion outside. He looked over at his team and sighed – they were all hanging out with their lady friends. Private and Charlotte were working on the brigantine – they had it almost half-way finished now and were clearly enjoying each others' company. Kowalski and Isabelle were taking turns drawing on his dry-erase board, while Rico and Gracie sat together in the sunlight, with her chattering away as usual and Rico looking completely besotted. His tongue was hanging out and he was listening to her as though everything she said was vital to life itself. Maybe it is, Skipper thought, shaking his head.

Rosie sat by herself, reading a book about – Skipper peered a little closer – astronomy. She glanced up at him and frowned. "Yes?"

"You're into astronomy?"

"I like to look at the stars. I want to know about them – do you know, there's a comet about to pass over New York tonight?"

"Oh?" He drew closer, but cautiously. He didn't want her to think he was interested in_ her_. Or her beautiful blue eyes. He forced himself to look at the book instead, though he had next to zero interest in the stars, aside from using them to navigate. He hadn't had to do that since he and his team had taken over that cargo ship.

"Yes. It's due to pass right over the city at about ten o'clock. If that nutjob Julien isn't playing that racket of his, it'll be nice to go out and watch it. Would…would you like to go up, too?"

"Oh…I…uh…maybe." He supposed there'd be no harm in that kind of thing. Just stand a few feet away, watch it go over and then go back inside as soon as he politely could. "If he's not playing the racket, of course."

She smiled and nodded, then returned to her reading. Skipper, suddenly remembering the noise outside, went up to investigate. Alice and another zookeeper were bringing a smaller crate into the enclosure. He immediately tensed, wondering what he'd do if there were bringing _another _female into the mix. The keepers opened the crate and left, but stood watching as Skipper waited for whatever was in there to come out.

Finally, a penguin came ambling out of the crate, the picture of confidence. Skipper frowned – this penguin was a male: he was tall and lean, but with very strange markings: he had long yellow feathers on his head and a reddish beak. A King penguin? Here?! The penguin saw Skipper and came right over, but not in an unfriendly manner. "Hey! I'm Jake. Who're you?"

"I'm…uh…Skipper."

"Skipper. It's good to meet you, man. What's this place called?" Jake had a strange kind of accent: Skipper could picture him with a surfboard and an earring – if he had ears.

"Er…Earth?"

Jake laughed heartily, missing Skipper's sarcasm entirely. "No, I mean, what's the zoo called? I was just, like, thrown into a crate one day and off we went. Nobody told me where I was going."

"The Central Park Zoo," Skipper finally said.

"Ah. I'm from California."

"Ah. San Diego?"

"No. Los Angeles. Hollywood, baby!" He grinned and put on a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. "These are Armani!"

"Oh, really. Look like shades to me," Skipper answered coldly. He had a bad feeling about this guy, but couldn't put his flipper on why. "Anyway. There's others downstairs. Come on."

"Cool, man. Very cool." Jake followed Skipper down into the HQ. Everyone looked up, and Skipper noted Kowalski and Isabelle jumping apart, as if they'd been embracing. Good grief!

He turned to Jake. "This is Jake. From, like, Los Angeles."

Everyone stared at Jake, taking in his arresting looks and easy charm, and began making introductions. The ladies all went first, Gracie introducing her daughters politely. Rosie was last to come up and say hello, and Skipper's unease grew as she smiled shyly at the Hollywood penguin. But it was also rather strange, how Jake reacted to all the female attention – he actually stammered a bit and became very shy, particularly whenever he looked at Rosie. Skipper had just finished introducing him to his team when Rosie spoke up.

"Oh, by the way, Jake, there's a comet passing over the city tonight. Perhaps you could join us all to watch it? It's very interesting!"

Skipper flinched. She had invited him only a little while ago! Now she was inviting…everybody? _Including_ Jake?

Jake smiled, blushed, and suddenly dashed into the latrine.

"Air sickness, I suppose," Gracie said, shrugging. "Mm…good-looking young fellow, isn't he?" Rico looked offended, and Gracie smiled at him. "But he's not half as good-looking as you, sweetie. He doesn't have that adorable scar." Rico immediately looked happier.

"Well…I suppose," Rosie answered. But she looked starry-eyed, which irritated Skipper _immensely_. Starry-eyed over some twit from Hollywood? Who next? That bonehead Brad Pitt? He gave her a hard look, but Rosie didn't even seem to notice. When Jake emerged from the latrine, looking a little less green, she and her sisters went over to chat with him. Rico, Private and Kowalski joined them, and Skipper noted Kowalski placing a protective – and possibly even possessive – flipper on Isabelle's shoulder.

"Hrmph." Skipper turned away and went back to his training manual. Let them get acquainted. That sinking feeling in his stomach was only getting worse, and he decided right then and there that he had _no_ interest in watching any blasted comets!


	7. Chapter 7

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

Skipper has a plan. Alas, the plan will not serve _him_ all that well.

Skipper could hear everyone up there on the floe, watching for the comet, and he almost wanted to scream with frustration. They were all having a great time – it was a wonder they didn't break out the barbecue grill for a midnight cookout. Finally, disgusted, he left, though he couldn't really think where to go. That was why he was surprised to find himself in the lemur enclosure.

Julien was sitting on his throne, wide awake, watching the sky with an anxious expression on his face.

"Hey. Lemur. What are you doing?"

"There is a light in the sky – it is a bad sign from the sky spirits!" He pointed at the comet as it slowly streaked across the night sky. Stars sparkled and winked, and the moon glowed huge and bright, lighting the zoo so well Skipper could see everyone over on the floe – including Rosie and Jake, who were standing close together, watching the comet and looking extremely comfortable together. Skipper twitched angrily and fluffed his feathers, irritated.

"It's a comet, Julien," Skipper finally informed Julien, rolling his eyes.

"It's not toilet bowl cleanser, you silly penguin. It's a light! A streaky, fast-moving light!" He cowered, ears pinned back, eyes wide with fear.

"No…you don't get it. It's a _comet_. They're formed by…well, I don't know what they're formed by, but they streak across the sky sometimes."

"Do they hit lemurs?" Julien wondered where Mort was – if comets did hit lemurs, Mort was a perfect target.

"I'm sure they would if they could find one," Skipper muttered. "No. They don't."

"Oh." Julien sat up, looking a little more chipper. But he soon sat back, exhausted. "I am very tired. And I can't find Maurice or Mort. What is wrong with them?!"

"They've been drinking love smoothies, I suspect," Skipper sat down beside Julien's throne. "They're…uh…they're making…er…_progress_ with their respective lady friends."

"Progress?" Julien scratched his ears, not sure what that meant but suspecting it was something to do with babies. Or making babies. Maurice had told him, once, where babies came from and the very idea had shocked him. "How long will they be making this, how you say, progress?"

"Until by death they do part, lemur."

"Hm. And if they are dead, they will not be doing this annoying disappearing they've been doing lately. There is no one around now to peel my grapes or bring me leechee nuts or prepare my Super Duper Pamper Time Floaty Throne. When I last saw Maurice, it was 'Esmerelda this, Esmerelda that, blah blah blah…and Mort…it's nothing but Gigi, Gigi, Gigi!"

"Yeah. That's pretty much what 'progress' is all about, Julien. Aside from turning guys into complete morons."

"Really?" Julien picked at a toenail and tried to sound as casually disinterested as possible. "Well, then, why do I not make progress with Frances? I would not be a moron! I would as brilliant as ever…Mort and Maurice are just silly assistants and servants! I am King. Kings should have no trouble making progress with…with…"

"Frances?" Skipper raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Julien sighed. "She hates me."

"Maybe if you were _nicer_ to her, she'd like you a bit."

"I am nice! Yesterday, I told her she could peel my grapes and pick the knots out of my tail! How would that not be nice?"

"How did she react?"

"She threw a rock at me." Julien rubbed his forehead, where the rock had hit him. He had seen stars for several minutes after that. Frances had excellent aim. She had excellent everything. He thought about her soft fur and her eyes and her curvaceous figure. Yes…excellent.

"Maybe you should rethink your definition of 'nice', Ringtail." Skipper frowned. He wasn't exactly being nice to Rosie. He was over here while she had invited him to view the comet over _there_. But he didn't want to be around while she fluttered her eyelashes at Jake. Not that he'd ever admit that seeing something like that would feel like someone had stuck a knife in his heart and was ruthlessly twisting it. "Maybe you could peel _her_ grapes and groom the knots out of her tail."

"She does not have knots in her tail." Julien frowned and peered down at his hands, noting that his nails were ragged. "She is perfectly groomed. And she doesn't even have a Maurice."

"Hm. Well, girls are more into taking care of their own…er…grooming, I think. So then you can peel her grapes. Give her stuff. Shiny, pretty stuff. Girls like shiny, pretty stuff."

Julien thought about this. "Shiny and pretty? I don't have shiny and pretty stuff."

"Get some then." Skipper jumped down and started waddling away. Julien followed him, still bewildered.

"Pretty things. I am pretty. I mean, I'm…well, I'm very handsome. And I can be very shiny when I take a good long bath…"

"That's not what I mean!" Skipper snapped, irritated. He turned back to face Julien. "Girls like…well, they like girly things. Ribbons and bows and…I dunno, pearls and diamonds and stuff like that. They might even like Barry Manilow!"

"Ugh…please, don't tell me that. I'd rather be alone that listen to Barry Manilow. 'Mandy' alone raised the crime rates in this country by double digits!"

"That and 'Ballerina Girl'," Skipper said, and left Julien alone. The lemur contemplated all the possibilities, along with Barry Manilow, and returned to his throne to do some more careful pondering. He searched for his pad and pencil and began writing a list of things girls might like:

Ribbons and bows

Shiny pretty things

Barry Manilow (but not 'Mandy'! or, heaven help us, 'Copacabana')

Frilly things

Puppies

Ponies

Kittens

Miley Cyrus

King Julien XIII, of course, which goes without saying

Julien shuddered. "I can swing those things," he told himself. "Except Barry Manilow." He scratched that nameoff the list. "I will not do Barry Manilow!" he shouted after Skipper's retreating form.

***

Morning dawned cold and grey, and so did Skipper. He made himself some coffee and went up onto the floe, to think and fume and generally be grumpy. He didn't even say good morning to his team, leaving them to play with their girlfriends. Alice threw some fish to him, but he didn't eat, which made her study him closely for a moment. "Another day of not eating, boy, and it's the infirmary for you," she called, and he quickly swallowed a cod. "Better." She left him alone and he fluffed his feathers, running things through his mind, annoyed that Rosie kept invading his thoughts.

"Hey! Hey, Skipper, could I talk to you a minute?"

It was Jake. Skipper sighed and nodded absently to the King penguin. King penguin, indeed. He looked idiotic, to Skipper's thinking, with those yellow feathers sprouting from his head and those red stripes on his beak. Penguins are supposed to be black and white. They are not supposed to look like dissipated members of old and rather unsuccessful punk rock bands.

"Man, I was up way too late last night. That Rosie – she's…well, she's really cool, isn't she?"

"Uh…" Cool. Cool and beautiful and smart and sweet and…Skipper winced and looked away.

"Anyway, I gotta ask you somethin'. It's…uh…kind of awkward, really. I mean, I know I just got here and everything, and, like, you barely know me, but I really need some help."

Skipper regarded Jake with a cool eye, thinking of the various devious ways he could 'help' him. But his better side prevailed, much to his disgust. "All right…what do you need?" It annoyed Skipper that as much as he wanted to hate Jake, he just couldn't. The other penguin seemed fairly devoid of intellect, but in all regards he was a friendly, kind-hearted fellow. Kind of like a Golden Retriever. Only dumber.

"Well…ah…see, I'm, like, really no good with girls. I can't talk to them! Every time I try, I toss my cookies."

"You toss your what?"

"My cookies! I throw up! Barf! Hurl!"

"Oh. Yeah, that would ruin a first date."

"I also do it when I'm scared. I got mugged once by an Emperor penguin and threw up all over him."

"Well, that'd work better than Mace…but please, go on."

"Thing is, I really like Rosie. She's, like, totally hot, man. I mean, she is, like, _totally_ babe-a-licious."

Skipper glared at Jake, who continued to stare at him, a hopeful expression on his face. "I'm going to really hope that you did not tell _Rosie_ that you thought she was 'babe-a-licious'."

"No. I didn't. I tried, but then I felt sick to my stomach and ruined the water in the pool. She thinks I have stomach flu."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "That's good. The not saying 'babe-a-licious', I mean. Hornking up your lunch into our pool, not so good. But what do you want me to do about that? Hang around you, holding a bucket?"

"No. I just need…well, maybe you could help me think of what to say so I won't sound so stupid and sick."

"Me?" Skipper was bewildered. He could barely think of what to say to Rosie. He pondered a moment. "Well…I could coach you, I guess. I'm fairly good with words. Or at least with giving orders. Tell you what, you take her up on the floe tonight and…I have a brilliant idea! The walkie-talkies! I'll get a pair from Alice's office and we'll be set."

"Great! So what's the plan?" Jake waddled after Skipper, who was carefully separating his growing desire for Rosie from the idea of a covert mission. Once he managed that, it would be easy to coach Jake. He could make himself pretend Rosie had nothing to do with it. And once everything was settled and Skipper excised Rosie from his thoughts and his heart forever, then it would all be just peachy with a side of keen, aside from the loneliness and depression and general misery, of course.

"Just repeat after me and it'll be perfect. I guarantee it, buddy!"

Operation Mouthpiece was on!


	8. Chapter 8

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

Part 8

Skippers plan goes extremely well. In other words, it's an unmitigated disaster.

***

"Okay, Jake, can you hear me?"

"WHAT?!"

The kickback screeching through the walkie-talkie almost knocked Skipper over. "Would you lower you voice already? Ever heard of a stage whisper? Try the stage whisper!"

"OKAY!"

"That's not a stage whisper, you nitwit! That's an ear-splitting shout!"

"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!"

Skipper climbed back up onto the ice floe and smacked Jake upside the head. "Listen to me," he said, shaking the King penguin. "Stop yelling. Talk normally. I will be talking to you, you will be taking to Rosie, I will hear you both but she won't be able to hear me, and no one will be screaming, unless you scream again, and then you will be screaming in _pain_, all right?"

Chastised, Jake nodded vigorously and waddled back over to the edge of the floe. They had sent the rest of the penguins out for a late-evening exploration of the zoo, with Kowalski – ever reliable – taking point. Skipper hadn't even been upset to see Charlotte and Private holding hands – or flippers, actually. Kids, he thought with an affection that surprised him. They had the ice floe and the pool to themselves, and Skipper had spent the past hour trying to get Jake to understand the concept of speaking normally while wearing those earphones under an Elmer Fudd type hunting cap to cover them, even if he did look unbelievably stupid. The walkie talkie was a bit harder to conceal, but Skipper had finally decided that since Jake was into surfing, he could wear one of those floral Hawaiian shirts to cover it. That way, Skipper could hear every word being said by his protégé and by Rosie.

Finally, satisfied that Jake had been frightened into something resembling normal behavior, Skipper went back down below and tried again.

"Okay, now, can you hear me?" he said quietly.

"Yep!"

"All right. Now, repeat what I say. 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog'."

"Why would a fox jump over a dog? Dogs chase foxes! That fox must have some kind of death wish…"

"Would you just repeat it?!" Skipper hissed in exasperation.

"Fine, fine…the lazy dog jumped over the quick brown fox."

Skipper put his flipper to his forehead and sighed. "Close enough. Now just remember, when Rosie comes back, send everybody but _her_ down here. I'll hide in the passageway and tell you what to say. Just don't say anything without me telling you to say it, or you'll freak out and ruin the pool water again."

"Right, dude. I am totally psyched!"

"Uh…yeah." Skipper signed off for the time being and went into the passage that was hidden behind Private's 1st Prize. In a little while, he heard everybody coming back, talking happily together. He heard Jake tell everyone that supper was ready downstairs, but that he'd really like to talk to Rosie, if she wouldn't mind. Well, Skipper thought, he got through that without throwing up. Things should go very smoothly.

He heard Rosie and Jake made some awkward small talk, and Skipper decided to start. "Now, tell her she looks very…pretty tonight."

"You look really pretty, Rosie."

"Oh, thank you," she answered, smiling warmly at Jake. God, he was just such a hunk. "Why are you wearing that hat?"

"I'm…uh…my head is cold."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Tell her you wanted to talk to her alone, because you have some things you'd like to say that the others shouldn't hear," Skipper told him.

"I…uh…I wanted to talk to you, because I had some stuff I'd really like to say…stuff the others…others shouldn't hear."

"Oh?"

"Tell her that…er…you've spent your whole life alone, mainly by choice, but sometimes not so much, and that you've not really had much success with the opposite sex, but that now you're really thinking about trying again."

"Again?" Jake queried, confused.

"Huh?" Rosie squinted at Jake.

"What? Don't ask me questions, you boob! Talk to her!" Skipper yelled.

Jake jumped. "I mean…I mean, I've been alone all my life, but now I don't want to be alone any more and I want to try to…you know…try."

"I see." She fluffed her feathers a little and smiled, flattered.

Skipper struggled to get back on track. "And…and the moment I saw you I thought you were just…wonderful and spectacular and amazing and smart and…well, I was just wondering if you would be interested in…you know…" Skipper rubbed his forehead. "The zoo does have this new breeding prog-…I mean, well, you know…I mean, I'll understand if you don't…"

"I understand." Rosie smiled. "I know why I was brought here. And you were brought for the same reason, obviously. And I do…well, I do like you," she said shyly.

Jake grinned. "You do?"

"Yes. I do."

Skipper made a miserable whimpering sound, which Jake repeated. Then, without warning, Alice's voice blared out through the walkie-talkie. "So why aren't you cleaning up that elephant dung?"

"So why aren't you cleaning up that elephant dung?" Jake yelled at Rosie.

"What?!" Rosie gasped, horrified.

Skipper yelped and tried to change channels, but nothing worked. Apparently, some signals were getting mixed! Alice went on, shouting at some subordinate, with Jake repeating her verbatim about elephant dung and wheelbarrows and puddles of pee, all of which were not very conducive to romance, until he realized what he was saying. He threw the hat and earphones off, where they splashed into the water, and turned away from Rosie, gasping. What had he just said? Where was Skipper?!

"Jake? Are you all right?"

He whirled around, trying to think of something to say. Anything! He smiled at her and stepped closer, putting a suave expression on his face that, unfortunately, looked a lot more like a drunken leer. "You really are a gorgeous penguin, you know. I mean…really…hot. Were you in Playbird magazine…April last year?"

"Playbird?!" Rosie backed away. "What kind of question is that?"

"I mean, you have such beautiful feathers. Could I…could I fluff your feathers?"

"Oh!" Rosie turned and rushed away, climbing downstairs into HQ, where her mother and sisters looked up, concerned. "You're…you're disgusting!"

"Honey, what's wrong?" Gracie asked.

"He's _horrible_!" Rosie exclaimed. "Do you know what he asked me?"

Skipper, inside the passageway, turned the walkie talkie off, dropping it to the floor, and sat for a long time, shaking his head, before he climbed back out and headed upstairs, unnoticed by the others. Rosie was being comforted by her mother and sisters, who were all equally appalled at the Playbird reference. Isabelle, trying to be helpful, noted that at least Jake thought Rosie _qualified_ for Playbird, which didn't actually help at all.

Up on the floe, Skipper confronted a contrite and trembling Jake. "_What_ was that? Playbird? Fluff your feathers?!" he yelled.

"I panicked! Alice started yelling about…oh, God, elephant dung! I told her to clean up elephant dung?!"

"Yes, you did. You panicked. Though, frankly, I think throwing up would have served you a lot better! I'm sure she will consider cleaning up elephant dung a very romantic offer. All women love cleaning up crap!" Skipper counted to ten and calmed himself. "All right. I'll get her back up here and you straighten this out. Apologize. Get down on your belly, hack up some codfish, weep profusely, whatever…just make it right!"

"But I…" Jake stepped forward, but saw an expression of mayhem on Skipper's face and shut his beak. Skipper stalked away and went back down to HQ.

"Er…Rosie, what happened out there?" he asked her, trying to appear clueless.

"Where have you been?" Kowalski asked him.

"I was doing some recon," he said. "The civets are…uh…riveting!" He redirected his attention to Rosie, who was still flushed and clearly outraged. "Anyway, Jake's up there and he seems kind of…upset. Something happened?"

"He told me to clean up elephant dung, and then asked me if I was ever in Playbird magazine! Playbird!" Rosie began pacing, muttering angrily. "How…how _repulsive_!"

"Right. Playbird." Skipper frowned. "That's not good. Not good at all. Listen, he'd really like to apologize. He was overcome with…the vapors or something." Stupid was the most likely culprit.

"The vapors? Is he sick?" Skipper hated that, even through her rage, she was concerned about Jake.

"Right. He was sick. You know he has that stomach problem. Just go back up and let him pitch his story and see if it flies. I mean, everybody deserves a second chance, right?"

Rosie eyed Skipper suspiciously. "Why would you care?"

"Because you should be happy, okay? Get on up there, sister." He practically pushed Rosie back up the ladder to the floe. "A leader wants members of his team to be as happy as reasonably possible while always being prepared for war, disaster or at least…uh…fish cakes. Go on. Up you go!" He was almost frantic, and became even more frantic when he saw Private looking into the passageway and seeing the walkie-talkie. "Private! Drop that _right now_!" Rosie was climbing back up, and Skipper dashed over to grab the communication device from the young penguin, who looked confused.

"Skipper, what's this doing in here?" he asked, bewildered.

"I have no idea how they got there. Probably that crazy lemur or…uh…spies. Go to bed, Private. All of you…bed!" He knew he sounded rather loony at the moment, but he had to get back up there _soon_ and he didn't have time to dilly- dally. Private sighed and obediently climbed into his bunk. After saying their goodnights, Kowalski and Rico did the same, and the females climbed up to their ledge and settled in. As soon as things got quiet, Skipper rushed back up and slipped into the water.

He swam around until he could hear Jake and Rosie talking – or actually, Jake babbling incoherent apologies. He hissed at Jake until he caught the other penguin's attention, and Jake dove in, with Rosie angrily flapping and muttering in confusion. "Men!"

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her I got a bad blow to my head once, when I was a chick. Mom dropped me."

"Threw you, more like," Skipper muttered. "Now listen. We'll stay in the water and I'll feed you lines, all right? You talk to Rosie!"

"Aye, aye!" Jake rushed back to the side of the floe and called Rosie, who finally came to the ledge.

"What? Are you gonna ask if you can fluff my feathers again? How _romantic_!" she glowered.

"Tell her you're sorry. That you were…uh…overcome with moonlight madness. That her beauty turns you into a babbling idiot!" Skipper figured a blade of grass would turn Jake into a babbling idiot, but there was no time for details here.

Jake repeated Skipper's words, and Rosie seemed a little mollified. She hrmphed and crossed her flippers.

"Now tell her that…that her beauty and her grace and…and sweetness makes me…er, you, forget where I am, what I'm…what you're doing. What you're saying."

"Your beauty and sweetness and grace make me forget what I'm doing or saying," Jake parroted.

"Normal language just isn't efficient. It doesn't do you justice," Skipper said, just able to see Rosie from his vantage point behind Jake. He sighed, forgetting to be angry. "And what they don't work, I become…I feel afraid. I'm afraid of words!"

Jake lunged forward. "Language isn't efficient. It doesn't do you justice. So I become afraid of worms!"

"Worms?" Rosie stepped forward, peering into the dark water. She could only just make out Jake's form. She heard splashing, hissing and the sound of Jake smacking himself – hard.

"Idiot! Words! Words!"

"Oh. Yes. I can see how it might be hard to…to talk sometimes," Rosie agreed. "I have trouble, too. Sometimes words just aren't enough, are they?"

"That's right. When I'm around you, I can't speak. I just hear music and see lights all around, because you are music and light," Skipper coached Jake. "When I'm around you, I feel…I feel like maybe life isn't all about recon and covert missions…I mean, I mean, maybe it's not all about…uh…surfing and…uh…the beach. Armani sunglasses and suntan lotion and saying the word 'like' all the time…"

Rosie listened to Jake's words and smiled. "That's so sweet."

Jake, excited, didn't let Skipper finish. "I'd really like to make a chick with you!" he shouted.

"Shut up, Jake!" Skipper yelped, grabbing him and pulling him underwater.

"What?" Rosie was confused and peered in the water again. Skipper dragged Jake to the other side of the floe.

"What are you saying? First it's light and music and now it's 'let's get it on'?" he snarled. "You keep your trap shut and I'll do the talking, all right?" He swam back, Jake right behind him, and hid in the shadows. "Rosie, I'm sorry. I…I was telling myself to shut up, because the last thing I'd want to do," he gave Jake another hard smack, "is insult or offend you."

"I'm not…I'm not _really_ offended," she admitted. "I'm a bit confused, though. One minute you're saying such beautiful things and the next, you're being…well, crazy. But…I'm willing to give you another chance."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Skipper told her. "So glad. Because the last person I'd ever want to hurt in this whole world is you, Rosie. Rosie. Just the sound of your name makes me…it makes me nearly crazy. Maybe even totally crazy. I say your name in my sleep all the time. I hear your name and see your face everywhere I am."

Rosie blushed. "Go on," she said softly.

"I can't keep my eyes off you. I can't stop thinking about you. I…I've never felt like this about anybody. In my whole life. I don't want to just be part of this…this breeding program. I want more than just that. I want…I want you. In my life. Forever. And all it would take would be one little word from you. One word and I'd be the happiest guy in the world. But if it's the wrong word, it'll _kill_ me."

"What's the word, Jake?" she asked, intrigued.

"'Yes'."

Rosie smiled. "Yes." She turned away.

Elated, Skipper started to jump up onto the floe, but Jake stopped him and dragged him back down. "Oh, man, that was great! Thanks, buddy!"

"W-What?" Skipper looked back, dazed. "I…you're…"

"She said 'yes', dude! Yes! No girl has ever said yes to me before! They usually just say 'Ew, I've got partially digested fish all over me!' and then run away. Man, you are just, like, amazing! Thanks!" Jake pumped Skipper's flipper, leapt up onto the floe and waddled away after Rosie.

Skipper bobbed in the water for a long time, misery washing over him. He looked up at the stars, glad that his face was still wet, because then if anyone asked, he could claim the moisture on his cheeks was just water.


	9. Chapter 9

BRIGADOONS AND GALS

Part Nine

(With props to the movie "Roxanne")

Skipper falls out of a tree. Julien goes off the deep end. And where _is_ Toto?

***

"Good morning, Frances!"

Frances woke with a start and almost zoomed up a tree, terrified to see Julien's face just inches from her own. She scrambled away from him and cowered for a brief moment in the corner, not sure what to do. But she soon regained her cool and studied the 'King' lemur, noting that he was holding something in his hand.

"G-Good morning, K-King…er…Kingy," she said. He wasn't wearing his crown, which seemed very odd.

"And how will you being doing this morning?"

"I'll be doing peachy keen as soon as you tell me that whatever you have in your hand isn't going to hurt me." If it was a jack-in-a-box with a clown that came springing out, she'd have to run screaming from the zoo.

"Oh! Oh, no, this is a pretty frilly thing you will be liking." He proudly showed her what looked like a child's headband, decorated with a silk sunflower.

"Where did you get that?" she asked him, suspicious.

"I…er…I obtained it through my…er…cleverness!"

Near the lemur cages, a little girl was weeping and pointing at Julien, her hair a mess. The girl's mother narrowed her eyes at the lemur and stalked off in search of somebody official, dragging the sobbing child behind her.

"Cleverness?" Frances sniffed the headband and looked up at Julien, whose expression was one of hopeful eagerness. "Er…thanks. It's…ah…very…pretty."

"I was going to see if I could find something shiny, but that little old lady with the diamond necklace also had a tiny dog with a very loud bark and what looked like blood on its lips…so…anyway, I present this to you as an…um…'Welcome to My Kingdom' gift, which is proper as it is my kingdom and I am the one for _giving_ gifts. Others may give me gifts, of course, but…but you need never give me gifts, as you are…well…here!"

He shoved the headband into her hands with a wide, expectant smile. "I…see. Yes. Well, this headband is…uh…" She tried it on and got her mirror. She did look nice, she thought. And she really liked flowers. Raoul back in San Diego had always been giving her presents, most of which had been tacky. Like those banana earrings, for instance, which had starting stinking after about two days. She glanced at Julien, who had his hands behind his back and was rocking back and forth on his feet, waiting.

"Do you like it?" he finally asked.

"Yes. I do. Thank you, Kingy." She peered at herself in her mirror again. Alice appeared with the woman and her child, and they pointed at Julien. The King of the Lemurs looked up at the zookeeper, yelped with fright and made for the trees. Frances was about to ask him to come back when she felt something sharp hit her in the backside. "Hey! How rude!" She turned back to face the human, baring her teeth, but she felt very dizzy and then extremely sleepy and hit the ground with a thud, out cold.

Alice made her way down to Frances and removed the headband, knowing Julien was about as likely to attack her as he was to sing like Susan Boyle. She handed it back to the little girl with profuse apologies, but the girl's mother didn't seem very happy. Nor did she seem pleased when the little girl seemed to change her mind and demanded that Alice give it back to Frances. "She looks pretty with it on, Mommy. Let the lemur keep it."

"Are you joking?! That other lemur could have killed you!"

"He just took the headband – he didn't really hurt me, Mommy. I think he wanted to give it to her. Maybe he likes the black and white lemur. Let her keep it, Mommy."

Alice sighed, just relieved that the woman wasn't going to sue, and threw the headband back to the sleeping lemur, who didn't stir. When the trio left, Julien came racing back to Frances, frantic with worry.

"Oh! Oh sky spirits! Revive the beautiful Frances! Bring her back from the dead!" He dropped to his knees beside her and, after a moment more of prayer, he began giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Frances awakened then, and remembered her father's advise about how she should always eat healthy foods because she didn't want to faint one day and awaken to some unattractive lemur breathing foul air into her mouth.

Julien was not unattractive. And his breath was not foul. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a thorough kiss. Later, she'd blame it on the drugs.

The King leapt away from Frances, frightened and confused and…something else. He scrambled up onto the platform and hid behind his throne, just like he'd done the day she'd arrived. Her peered down at her from behind the throne, and she sat up, groggily shaking her head. So this King had _no_ experience with females! Amazing! She smiled, figuring that females had had plenty of experience with _him_, but he likely didn't know it.

He was _adorable_.

"Hey…hey, Julien, are you all right?"

"You were dead!" he shouted. "Now you are a ghost!"

"I wasn't dead and I'm not a ghost. I was tranquilized. Alice shot me. It's all right."

"We will need to have a funeral for you," he informed her. "There are not many peoples here who know you…so you will be very disappointed in the small crowd. But I will be there!" He looked profoundly sad – even grief-stricken. "I will be crying very loudly. Maybe even screeching. Perhaps even fainting."

Frances sighed. She had a lifetime of this kind of thing coming to her, apparently, and she decided to just get used to it. "Frankly, Kingy, I think being dead would be the bigger disappointment, but let me reiterate that I am _not_ dead. I think I'd know." She pointed down at the spot where she had been lying. "If I was dead, I'd still be there and you could see through me. See?" She poked herself in the chest. "Not transparent! Entirely…" she cast about. "Corporeal?"

Julien observed her carefully and then smiled happily. "Hm. You do not look like a corporal, but okay! The sky spirits took you away…and then they sent you back! Let praise be given to the sky spirits!" He raised his hands and made 'V's with his fingers. "The sky spirits _rock_!" He peered down at her again. "Are you all the way back in?" He didn't move from his hiding place, but he looked a little less terrified.

"Riiight…yes, I think so," she said brightly, wondering if anti-psychotic drugs worked on lemurs. "I didn't even see a white light!" She stood up, but staggered backward and landed on her headband. She put it back on and peered at herself in her mirror, pleased. Julien was immediately at her side again, holding her.

"You are sure you will be…all right? There will be no permanent damage?"

"I've been tranq'ed before, Kingy. I'm okay."

He was silent a moment, thinking. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I dunno. I guess I wanted to."

He sat down, his mind whirling and his hormones shooting off in every imaginable direction but not having a clue as to where to land. "You like the frilly thing?" He gestured to the headband.

"Yes. I like it. Very much. It was very…sweet of you to get it for me. But hey, next time, don't snatch things from little kids, okay?"

"I will never steal again!" he declared dramatically, pointing to the sky. "The sky spirits clearly disapprove of stealing, even if you did like what I stole! I will make a royal proclamation tonight, too, against stealing, if that is what you will be desiring. I will…I will do or say anything you will be desiring! And if you begin desiring that I get you other shiny, frilly things I will do so – unless it is a Barry Manilow CD - but if you say stealing is bad, I will declare it to be so, as you say it!"

Frances had to jump out of the way of his careening train of thought. "Yes, Kingy. Bad things happen when you steal."

"Yes." He frowned. "Bad things do happ-oof!"

Skipper landed on Julien's head, knocking the lemur flat. The penguin rolled away and took a fighting stance, but when he saw the unconscious King and the shocked female lemur, his shoulders sagged. "Oh. Hi!" He gave his patented 'cute and cuddly' wave and started to run away, but Frances was quicker. She blocked his escape path and glared down at him.

"What were you doing in that tree?" she demanded.

"Recon! Observation!"

"Of what?" The thought that the penguin had seen her kissing Julien made her feel profoundly embarrassed. Like her mother had told her a hundred times, that kind of thing was entirely between yourself and the person you were doing it to, and not to be exhibited to or observed by anyone else! "Let those _National Geographic_ fellows research us all they like, but we have our dignity!" her mother had said.

"Uh…" Skipper glanced back toward the ice floe, where Rosie and Jake stood facing each other, billing and cooing and singing. Singing! They had gone through the entire cast album of _Grease_ last night and were just starting on _The King and I_. This was a disaster! He tried to push past Frances to get a better look. If it went past musicals into any kind of fulfillment of the breeding program's objectives, Skipper figured he'd have a stroke. The image of a penguin chick with yellow locks, Armani sunglasses and cocoa butter on its beak flashed before his eyes and he felt woozy.

"Well? Come on, out with it!" she snapped her fingers.

"No! Not 'Shall We Dance?'!" he shouted, suddenly hysterical. He loved that song! It was almost as good as 'A Woman in Love'!

"And you say Julien's crazy," Frances said. Skipper turned back to her, his eyes bloodshot and wild.

"It was a spaceship! Yes! A spaceship! It landed in our exhibit! And then an alien – it had big suckers on its feet, like a hopped-out octopus! It walked like this!" He tottered around, making 'popping' noises, flippers akimbo. "It came out and grabbed…grabbed us all! Took us up…hey, what time is it?"

Frances stared at him, the rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't know, Skipper, I don't wear a watch. I'm a lemur," she said, as though speaking to a very young and very stupid child.

He looked up at the sun. "Eight o'clock! Then it took…just a few hours! Hey, so they were slow aliens. Big deal!" He laughed wildly. He waved toward the clear blue sky. "Goodbye! Goodbye, alien friends!"

"Aliens!" Frances looked up, then realized she was being had. "Oh, please, Skipper. Tell me what you were really doing in that tree."

He continued, undaunted. "They were actually looking for the _lemur_ exhibit, because, and I'm quoting them directly here, they want to…er…'start their own breeding program with them'. Penguins, they said…we're very boring – that whole monogamy thing, mating for life, blah blah blah. But lemurs…they said that the lemurs really _know_ what they're doing, know what I mean?" He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not from what I've seen, buddy. And lemurs have been known to mate for life, too, y'know. Did you hit your head when you landed?" She glanced down at Julien, who was starting to come around. She rushed to his side. "Julien! Julien, talk to me."

"Hello. Am I back in Kansas now?" Julien asked her sweetly, his eyes crossing and uncrossing. He sat up and grinned deliriously.

"Uh…" She looked at Skipper, who shrugged.

"I like my blue dress. But these ruby slippers are _killing_ me." Julien stood up, tottering on wobbling legs. He peered suspiciously at Skipper, who regarded him with wide, startled eyes. "Have you seen my little dog, Mayor Munchkin?"

"Take him home, Frances," Skipper said wearily.

"Auntie Em?" Julien smiled happily at Frances and allowed her to lead him away toward the Bouncy. "Auntie Em, I really don't like flying monkeys. They scare me!"

"No, no, neither do I," she told him. "They scare me, too, sweetie."

"Oh, Auntie Em, you really can't go home again, can you?"

"Probably not without serious medications." She glanced back at Skipper. "Is he always this far into butterfly net territory?"

"Every day of his life," Skipper answered.

"Where's my little dog? Somebody took my little dog! Toto! Hey, Toto! Toto, come back!" Julien began whistling sharply, until Frances shushed him.

Skipper sighed and turned back toward the penguin exhibit. He ignored Julien singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' and went home for breakfast and his own private misery.


	10. Chapter 10

"What's the matter with that penguin?" Alice asked into her walkie-talkie. "He hasn't eaten in three days!"

The other penguins were tucking into their breakfasts, but Skipper stood apart from them, staring listlessly into the water, totally disinterested in everything around him. Private, his near-constant hunger temporarily sated, inched over to his leader and gently tapped him on the shoulder. Skipper only lifted his head slightly, and stared at Private as if he had no idea who he was.

"Skipper, don't you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry, soldier."

"You have to eat, sir," Private implored him. "Come on…please. Everyone's very worried." His team was definitely concerned – Skipper hadn't even had any interest in maneuvers or recon in quite a while. He just stood there, night and day, staring into space and looking miserable. Kowalski was still trying to come up with a sound theory, but so far, he was baffled.

Skipper looked back at the group, noting that they were standing in a huddle, talking quietly. Rosie and Jake were whispering to each other…or, actually, Rosie was talking and Jake was looking at her with wide, vaguely confused eyes. He looked away, misery making him even more nauseated. He couldn't even look at food. "I'll be all right, kid. Go on back and enjoy your meal."

Alice climbed into the enclosure and had little trouble catching Skipper, who only put up a vague struggle. The others were alarmed and began squawking loudly, gathering around her and even hopping up to try to get to Skipper, but she ignored them and carried him to the infirmary. She placed him on the exam table and gestured toward him as the veterinarian studied him. The penguin peered up at the veterinarian, sighed, shuddered, and resumed staring at his feet.

The vet palpated Skipper's belly, noting that the usually aggressive penguin didn't even try to take his usual chunk out of his hand.

Alice continued, concerned, not wanting to admit that this was really her favorite of all the penguins. "He's lost weight, he's listless…I mean, usually, it takes me _hours_ to catch him. And he bites like a demon! But not today – he barley even tried to run away. The past few days, he's been standing by himself, staring into the water." She wiped her nose. "You'd almost think he was depressed."

"Penguins get depressed," the veterinarian informed her. "If they experience a loss or a disappointment, they get as depressed as any human."

Alice looked skeptical, but she left the vet alone to examine the miserable penguin.

Skipper eyed the vet warily, but didn't try to run away this time. He fluffed out his feathers, feeling cold, and only whimpered fearfully when the needle came out, and squawked when he was injected with a vitamin cocktail. The vet put him into a cage and stroked his head kindly. "You'll be feeling better soon, little guy. We'll take good care of you."

The penguin only turned away and stared at the wall. The vet shook his head and called his assistant into the exam room. "How is the breeding program going?"

"Well, the little female mouse lemur is definitely _en enciente_. I suspect the Aye-Aye will be too, sooner or later. The Ring-Tail female and that loony male are still chasing each other around, but they aren't fighting any more, from what I can tell. In fact, I caught them hugging and grooming each other this morning. Which was really funny, actually – she started throwing rocks at me the minute she saw me – the male just took off like always. What a nutter. The penguins are another matter. I can't catch the tallest female – the one she hangs out with tried to _kill_ me the minute I got near her, but I really do think the mother of the three girls is getting ready to lay an egg. Who'da thought that particular penguin would be the first to father a chick? I'm surprised he figured out which end to work on."

"Yeah. Maybe it's the tux she fell for, eh? " the vet laughed. Skipper, overhearing this, hunched and sank even lower into his grief.

***

Rico wasn't sure what Gracie was talking about. Something about 'chick' and 'egg' and 'if you ever touch me again I'll tear your flippers off'. Apparently, laying the egg was very uncomfortable, but once she managed to get it over with, she seemed calmer and actually smiled at him when he cautiously inched toward her again. He coughed up a little daisy and she took it, her smile growing wider. "Well, loverboy, you've got a kid on the way." She stood up and uncovered the egg, and he peered down at it, amazed.

"Egg!" he squawked.

"Yes. Egg."

"Gracie!" He tried again. "Gracie make egg!"

"Yes. Gracie has an egg," she said patiently.

"Rico…Gracie…" His eyes widened. "Make egg?!"

"Yeppers, Rico. You were right under the buzzer, sweetheart."

"Wow!"

She covered the egg again and relaxed, noting that her daughters were in a huddle, but she decided to leave them alone for now. Charlotte and Rosie looked at Isabelle, who turned pink. "What?!"

"I know you and Kowalski go away alone together, every night," Rosie pointed out. "And you're not _singing_!" She crossed her flippers and thought, not for the first time, that that was pretty much all she and Jake did. He was a good singer, yes, but he still wasn't very good at talking. But at least he didn't mention Playbird any more. Still, it kind of niggled at the back of her mind sometimes, how he never seemed able to say anything approaching the beautiful things he'd said that night two weeks before.

"I san't king! I mean, I can't sing!" Isabelle said helplessly. "And Kowalski wants to…well, he wants to wait a little. He thinks I'm too young." She smiled affectionately. "He's so kind. A little weird, yeah, but kind, and you really can't be beat _kind_ in a guy, in my book. He makes sure I get a good portion of the fish every day, and that the zookeepers don't touch me. I think he even made that assistant zookeeper cry this morning."

"But what about poor Skipper?" Rosie asked, concerned. "He's been taken away! Do you think he's sick?"

"He looks sick," Charlotte said. "And very sad. Why do you think he's so sad?"

Isabelle had her own theory, but kept it to herself, figuring it was probably completely off base. Nonetheless, she decided she would bring it up with Kowalski tonight, when they were swimming together in the moonlight.

***

Having no team leader was rough for Kowalski. He suspected that he'd have to take charge and resume training exercises and making sure everything stayed ship-shape until Skipper came back. He drew out a daily regimen on the chalkboard and informed Rico and Private that training would resume tomorrow, just as Skipper would have it. He looked out toward the infirmary and wondered what they were doing to Skipper.

He waddled to the edge of the floe and noted that Isabelle was already in the water. He sighed. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Granted, the idea of having a baby with her some day filled him with dread – what if he wasn't a good father? What if he dropped the kid or something? Made it sick? And Isabelle…what if _she_ got sick or hurt? He would die! Or worse yet, what if Isabelle was taken away from him? He knew his heart would break into a thousand pie-…

Kowalski looked toward the infirmary again, an idea forming in his head. He waved to Isabelle and dove in after her, playful tickling her feet and watching her dash gracefully away before they both surfaced. "Hi," she said, smiling, shyly.

"Hi."

"It's a beautiful night."

"Yes, it is. The moon is waning." They both looked up at the moon, which indeed was starting to diminish.

"Rosie could tell us all about it," she informed him. "She knows all about the moon, and how it effects the tides. She could tell us all about the stars and the planets and other galaxies. She…what?"

"Does she talk to Jake about that? The moon and the stars and such?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "He's not really into…_talking_." Isabelle never liked to speak ill of others, but she finally had to confide her own misgivings about Jake to someone. "You know, he's really nice and all, but he seems kind of…well…I dunno…" She shugged. "Stupid. He doesn't seem like her type at all. I always thought she liked the smarter types. The leaders, like herself."

Kowalski nodded. "Would you like to go with me to visit Skipper?" he asked her suddenly.

"Oh, no. I'm terrified of that place!"

"It's not so bad…er…once you get past the needles and the medications and the screaming…yeah, I see your point. Don't tell anybody this, but Skipper is _terrified_ of the infirmary. So his going so quietly is a little disturbing. So…okay. It's all right. But tell the others I've gone to see him, all right?" He gave her a little peck on the cheek, which made her giggle, and swam away.

***

Skipper had wrapped himself in the towel the vet had given him and lay on his side, curled up but not sleeping. He also hadn't touched the fish the assistant had given him before leaving, causing the young man to stare at him sadly for a long time. "Poor little guy." He had touched Skipper's head for a moment, and the usually aggressive penguin hadn't moved a muscle. He just lay there, eyes closed against the bright lights. Now, the infirmary was dark and quiet, and he was letting his mind swim around like little fish, scattering every time he thought about Rosie.

"Skipper!"

He jerked up and looked around, ready to defend himself. But lack of nutrition and exhaustion immediately took their toll and he staggered, falling down. He pushed himself up again and looked down to see Kowalski standing there, clipboard in flipper, as serious as ever.

"Kowalski! What are you doing here?"

"I was worried. What's the matter with you, sir? Are you ill?"

"I guess you could say that," Skipper said tiredly.

Kowalski tried to figure out some way to ask Skipper about his theory, but decided that considering Skipper's current condition, he was in no state to talk about it. "So I take it you'll be breaking out of this joint tonight?"

"Uh…er…no…I'm…I'm really not feeling well."

"What's the matter?" Kowalski leapt up on to the counter beside Skipper's cage and peered inside. "You do look thin."

Skipper frowned. "That would go along with not feeling well, Kowalski."

The tall penguin thought for a long time and finally decided to try out his theory. "Skipper, I just heard a joke a few days ago…or, really, a riddle."

"A riddle." Skipper rolled his eyes and sat down. "Go ahead."

"What can you lie down on, brush your teeth with and drive?"

Skipper tried to think of an answer, until his head started hurting. "I have no idea."

"A bed, a toothbrush and a car." Kowalski smiled, pleased with himself.

"Well, ain't that clever," Skipper said grouchily.

"Well, sir, the point of the riddle is that sometimes the answer is blindingly obvious." He tapped his clipboard with his pencil. "Well, I suppose I should leave you alone…so you get back to feeling sorry for yourself, and yes, I do realize that I'm only brave enough to say that with you locked up behind bars. But think about that riddle, sir."

Skipper huffed and ruffled his feathers angrily. He watched his friend leave and turned back to face the wall, shoulders hunched, furious with the world and its cruelty. Hadn't he done his best? Hadn't he done all he could to make sure Rosie was happy? He wanted to her to be happy! And if Jake made her happy, then…well, Skipper would just have to live with being miserable for the rest of his life.

He wiped his eyes and lay down again. He just had to get over this. Put it behind him, lock it away, and never think about it again. He'd stay away from her, that was all. Simple enough. Tomorrow, he'd bite the vet and eat his fish and they'd return him to the enclosure and that would be the end of it.

_El excelente_!


	11. Chapter 11

The zoo animals all noted the loud noises in the infirmary – a crash, several shouts, an angry squawking sound, followed by more shouting. Suddenly, the door burst open and the veterinarian and his assistant burst out, carrying a cage between them. "Hurry!" the vet yelled.

The two men rushed to the penguin enclosure, ignoring their own bleeding cuts and wounds, and climbed out on the floe. The assistant cautiously undid the latch on the cage door, then turned to see that the vet had already made a run for it. "Hey! Don't leave me here with this homicidal bird!" He made a dive for the board, which they used to cross into the enclosure, as if it were last chopper out of Saigon and barely made it before the panicked vet yanked it away. Still not sure of their safety, the two men made tracks back to the infirmary, argued over who would go in first, and after getting stuck together in the door, they finally got inside and slammed it behind them.

Skipper stuck his head out of the cage, glanced toward the infirmary, and spat a piece of torn white lab coat out of his mouth. He nodded, satisfied, and waddled out.

He had caused merry mayhem in that infirmary this morning. When the assistant had come into feed him, he had eaten his fish eagerly – perhaps a little too eagerly, but he wasn't going to dwell on that too much – and then began fighting to get out of the cage. The assistant had foolishly opened the door, to try to sooth him, but that was when Skipper attacked. He didn't remember much about that, and he supposed the vet and the assistant would spend months in psychiatric care trying to forget. But the mission was accomplished – he was back home, and from now on, everything would be _normal_.

The penguin glanced back at the infirmary, feeling a little _frisson_ of guilt over what he had done to the two humans. They had been kind to him, and he repaid them with head wounds and various contusions. He sighed. Well, what was done was done, and there was no going back on that. He headed down the hatch into the HQ and wasn't surprised to see Kowalski and Private doing karate exercises with the long poles. Private dropped his pole and rushed to Skipper, hugging him enthusiastically. "Skipper! You're home!"

Kowalski's greeting was more reserved, but he was clearly pleased to see his captain again. "All is well, sir?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Everything's just fine. I couldn't feel better!" Skipper said, his expression determined. He glanced over at the females, who were gathered around Rico, who was brooding on his egg. Skipper made his way over, not sure what to say, and pointedly ignored Rosie. "Rico, I hear congratulations are in order. A kid, huh?"

"Yay!" Rico said, delighted. "Egg!"

"Yes, you have an egg. Gracie…er…you're in good health and all?"

"Yes, perfect health," she smiled and nodded. Rosie tried to catch Skipper's eye, but he barely even looked at her. Instead, he greeted everyone else, including Jake, who looked extremely relieved to see him again.

"They wanted me to do those crazy karate moves and those morning exercises of yours," he said, shaking his head. "I'm tellin' ya, man, I don't do stuff like that. I'm a surfer dude. Surfer dudes do _not_ do karate!"

"Well, isn't that interesting," Skipper said, knowing his sarcasm would be lost on Jake. It was not lost on Rosie, however, who gave him a sharp look. He noticed that she seemed a little off, however, and that her nose was running. Her eyes were also rheumy and bloodshot. But before he could let himself get concerned, he turned away, his heart pounding. Get over it! Just get over it! "So I take it everything is ship shape?" he asked everyone.

"Yes…" Private looked a little less than sure of that statement, however. He looked worriedly at Skipper, and then at Rosie. "Skipper, I think Rosie might be sick. She coughs a lot."

"Well, her mother can take of her, can't she?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then that's settled. Let's go up for training." He abruptly turned away, gesturing for Rico to follow. The new father looked back at Gracie, who smiled and gestured for him to go ahead. Rosie coughed, and her sisters surrounded her, gently patting her back and lovingly nuzzling her while her mother began preparing some medicine.

Jake sidled up. "I'm gonna go up, too," he told Rosie. "Do some sunbathing. I'm gettin' all pale and pasty," he said. Rosie smiled absently and went back to her miserable coughing. Jake, not comfortable with illness, fled.

***

Skipper pushed his men hard all morning, until finally even Rico – who generally loved the hardest work – started to show signs that he was tired of it. Finally he relented and let them all rest. Private made smoothies and they all stretched out in the sun, relaxing. Skipper was just dozing off, the burn starting to wear off, when he felt someone shaking him. He opened his eyes to see an anxious Jake peering down at him.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Shouldn't you be talking to your girlfriend?" Skipper asked him sharply.

"Shh!" Jake flapped his flipper, agitated. "Be quiet! C'mon, over here."

Skipper sighed and got up, waddling after the King penguin. He struggled to just turn himself _off_ inside, to feel nothing. It was better that way, wasn't it? He would listen to Jake and give some bland form of advise that would neither here nor there, and then go back to sleep and just hope that something large and heavy dropped on Jake some day and that Rosie would…no, no, _stop thinking about it_!

"Whataya want?" Skipper snapped once they were alone.

"Well, see, it's…it's Rosie. She keeps askin' me to say stuff like you were tellin' me to say, but I can't say stuff like that. It just won't come out of me, okay?"

"That could be because you're an idio…er…because you're inarticulate."

"Inarticl-inarticoo…inart…what's that?"

"Never mind. What does this have to do with me?" Skipper asked patiently.

"Well, I've been thinking about sending her a letter. I was good in creative writing, back in California. We took screenwriting classes."

He handed Skipper a folded piece of paper and stepped back, tapping his flippers together and waiting as Skipper slowly unfolded it and read.

_Yo Rosie,_

_I really think your hot. You have a great bod and are real cool, and you know so much about the stars. I think weer great together. I was wondering when your going to be ready to really get it on. Give your answer below:_

___ yes __ no_

Skipper read and re-read the letter, more amazed and appalled each time. He put it down, rubbed his eyes, and looked at Jake. "Is this a joke?" he asked, his voice choked.

"It's…it's not good?"

"You could get arrested for something this…this _vulgar_! 'Get it on'?! And 'you're' is supposed to be a contraction! 'You are'! And so is 'we're'. 'We are'! A contraction!" He thought seriously about just killing Jake right then and there. "'Your' is a possessive term! Sugar honey iced tea, Jake! What kind of creative writing course was this? A course for nitwits? Did Brad Pitt teach it?!"

Jake looked affronted by said nothing, having sort of expected a tirade from Skipper. He hung his head, contrite, and Skipper paced in front of him, ranting, until he finally calmed down.

"All right…okay…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted. It does have some element of…er…_sincerity_ to it. In the 'You're pretty enough for Playbird' sense, that is. But let me explain something, Jake. Females do not like being told that they're hot and that they have great bods or that you'd like to…er…'get it on' with them. They want to be told that they're beautiful and smart and that they're everything you ever dreamed of, et cetera. Okay?"

"Right…right. I understand," Jake said. "But at what point does it go from that to getting it on?"

Skipper slapped his flipper to his forehead. Jake sensed he was about to get smacked again and backed up, when suddenly, somewhere in the cobweb-filled far reaches of his mind an idea formed. "Hey, I have an idea!"

"Oh, really? Should we all run for our lives now?" Skipper asked sarcastically.

"No, no, man it's a great idea! You could write the letter!"

The shorter penguin hissed and turned away. No way was he writing a letter to Rosie! He'd end up proposing!

"I mean it! You'd do a great job. You seem to know exactly what to say to Rosie. I'm no good with that."

"I noticed!" Skipper whirled around to face him. "You expect _me_ to write a letter to her? Me?"

"Yeah. Please? I'm beggin' ya, man. She's…just so great, you know?"

"I know," Skipper muttered. He glanced back and saw Gracie gingerly emerging from the escape hatch, and Rico rushed over to help her, taking the egg from her and holding it affectionately before giving it back. Kowalski came out next, helping Isabelle up, and was followed by Private and little Charlotte. The six penguins waddled to the water, but Gracie stayed put while everyone else went for a swim. Rosie came up alone, and Skipper noted that she did look very ill. She coughed and sat, hunched and miserable, beside her mother, who nuzzled her comfortingly.

"C'mon, Skipper. I need help here!" Jake begged. Finally, Skipper turned to him, scowling.

"All right. I'll do it. But never ask for another favor again, all right?" He jumped down the hatch and left Jake to rush over to tend to Rosie. Mainly by pushing her into the water.


	12. Chapter 12

Rosie could sense that something was about to happen. Something _bad_. She jerked her head up, peering pensively around the HQ. Everyone was asleep. She scanned the dark room, letting her tired eyes adjust to the darkness until she could make out every familiar form. Her sisters slept almost in a circle around her, protecting her – subconsciously, perhaps – from the ever-playful and over-enthusiastic Jake. Her mother and Rico were sleeping side by side, their egg in an incubator Kowalski had constructed for it. The other male penguins slept in their bunks. She let her gaze dwell briefly on Skipper, noting that he kept twitching and mumbling to himself. Only Private and Kowalski slept soundly…if _noisily_. Could penguins wear Breathe-Rite strips?

She felt sick. She had finally admitted that to herself, in spite of stubbornly denying anything was wrong. She had no appetite, her nose was runny, and she mainly just wanted to lie around and whimper. Her mother had once said that if three people said you were sick, you should lie down, but Rosie had never been one to give in easily. She had always been the one to defiantly declare that no, by golly, she was just fine and keep on saying so until the fever shot up to one-hundred five and she was hallucinating about pink puppies and cats wearing tutus, whereupon she was thrown into a cage by a veterinarian and injected with heaven only knew what kind of antibiotics. Only problem was that she was really afraid of the veterinarian and his supply of needles. So the pink puppies and the tutu-wearing cats turned all black and ugly and rather violent. That had resulted in her throwing up all over a vet once and that had been even _worse_.

"Mom?" she whispered, getting up and nudging Gracie. Rico was immediately awake, ready to fight, but when he saw her he only grunted, nudged Gracie awake, and settled back into a deep sleep.

"Yes, baby? What's…oh, dear…you have a fever!" Gracie said softly, touching her daughter's head with a flipper. "We need to get you up on the floe and get that woman…Alice?…to take you to the vet."

"But it's nighttime! The zoo is closed!" Rosie hissed. "And I don't wanna go to the vet!"

"Sweetheart, it's either go to the vet or die. I mean, seriously, you look dreadful. Come on. I'll get Skipper to help."

"No…no…" Rosie was dragged along by her mother, however, and despite her objections and embarrassment, she had no choice but to go along. Gracie shook Skipper awake, and he sat up, gasping.

"I only wanted a pastry! I didn't know danish wasn't really Danish!"

The two females stared at him, intrigued, until he regained his composure. As smoothly as possible, he cleared his throat and smiled. "Yes, ladies?"

"Rosie is sick. She needs to go to the infirmary. Can you help?"

"O-Of course," he said, nodding. He jumped down and looked around the HQ, doing his best to avoid looking directly at Rosie. Finally, he hazarded a look at her and was astonished to see that she was clearly very sick. "Rosie? You're…you look…"

"I know. I look awful. I guess you're right, Mom. I should lie down." She sneezed and began coughing miserably, from deep in her chest. Skipper moved into action.

"Men! Up and at 'em! We have to get this girl to the infirmary!"

His team was awake and ready for action in a matter of seconds. Rico, Kowalski and Private stood around Skipper, wondering. Jake continued to sleep, snoring perhaps even more loudly now.

"Move out, boys. Sound the alarms!" Skipper commanded.

Private made for the door, followed by Rico, but Kowalski held back to question his leader. "Remember last time we sounded the alarm? We ended up with a SWAT team here. At the zoo! It was _on the news_. All because Private had a cramp in his foot."

"Well, the news people could stand a night not slobbering all over the president and report on something important, like a very sick penguin!" Skipper snapped back. "Move, move, move!"

Before Rosie really knew what was happening – the pink puppies were wearing tutus now, she noted with a kind of giddy alarm – she was being dragged up through the hatch and onto the floe, followed by her mother. Private rushed out to hit the alarm bell (which would wake up everybody in any building within a ten-mile radius of Central Park) while Gracie tended to her eldest child. Skipper stood nearby, saying nothing, watching as Rosie slowly slipped into unconsciousness. His heart started pounding when she stopped responding, and he was relieved when he heard the alarm blaring into the night. The humans would be here soon, and everything would be fine.

_Everything would be fine_. Skipper looked up at the sky, begging whatever was up there that surely controlled everything, even the life of a penguin, to help her.

***

"Aw, man, why'ncha wake me up then?" Jake asked Skipper the next morning.

"I don't know how your own snoring didn't wake you," Skipper answered coldly. It had been an anxious several minutes, waiting for someone to show up at the zoo. But show up they had – news camera crews, police, the fire department, EMTs, and two very confused drunks who kept demanding they start the movie when the lion roared. The zoo staff showed up shortly thereafter, and Rosie had been taken to the infirmary, the vet looking far more concerned than Skipper was comfortable with. In fact, the look on the vet's face made Skipper feel sick.

When everyone else had gone back into the HQ, Jake took Skipper aside, his expression as serious as someone of his limited range could be. "Did you write the letter?"

"You're concerned about a letter?" Skipper was astonished.

"Well…she'll get better. She's tough. So…did you write it?"

"Yes, you moron, I wrote it!" Skipper shouted at him. "Now leave me alone!"

He turned to leave and bumped right into Julien, who looked even more dazed than usual. The lemur's ears telescoped around, as if listening to some distant music, but for once not saying anything. In fact, he seemed to be in some kind of bliss-induced trance. Frances, beside him, smiled tentatively at Skipper. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Rosie's sick," Skipper answered shortly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Will she be okay?"

"I…I don't know." Skipper studied the two lemurs carefully. "She's pretty bad, I think."

"Oh, how awful. You must be so worried, Skipper. I know you lik-ow!" She bared her teeth at Skipper for smacking her in the stomach. "What was that for?!"

"What? Oh. Right. Never mind! Seen any aliens lately?" He looked around, making sure no one was listening.

"No. But plenty of lunatics!" she answered, offended. "Come on, Julien, back to beddy-bys." She gave Skipper another narrow look. "He was up late last night," she explained casually.

"I didn't hear any music," Skipper mused.

She smiled. "We weren't listening to music."

Julien turned pink and made goo-goo eyes at Frances. "Off to beddy-bys!" he giggled, and scampered away after the love of his life. He wasn't even wearing his crown.

Skipper put his fin to his forehead, realizing that before too long, there'd be scads and oodles of lemurs all over this zoo, listening to boomy boxes, bouncing, and generally being crazy. Plus there'd be Rico's kid, and before too long Kowalski and Isabelle would be having kids; Private and Charlotte would be _courting _(no way was he going to allow any hanky-panky this soon in the game! They were just kids themselves!) and then…well, he'd still be alone and chick-less. He sighed, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness.

This could get very complicated.

***

"Okay, I'm not gonna freak out. I'm not gonna freak out. I'm not gonna freak out I'm very calm and OMIGOD HE'S GOT A NEEDLE!" Rosie tried to scramble away from the veterinarian, who was indeed brandishing what looked to her like a harpoon-sized needle. But in her weakened state, she didn't make any progress and she was soon captured. The vet cooed gently at her, trying to reassure her, but nothing could abate her terror. She squawked and screamed and would have lost her lunch all over him if she hadn't fainted dead away.

She had no idea how much time passed. When she woke, she felt strangely peaceful. Sitting up, she noted that her headed wasn't spinning any more. She also had been fitted with an IV, which made her start squawking pitifully, which caught the attention of the vet's assistant. "Hey, little girl, it's okay," he said, opening the cage. "Nothing to be afraid of." He opened the cage and gently stroked her feathers, which made her feel a little better. "In a few days, you'll be good as new and back in the enclosure."

"Fluids and some good antibiotics, that's all she needs now. We may have to start a fish paste on her tonight, if she doesn't eat on her own," the vet said, scribbling on his clipboard. "But I think the worst of it has passed. Poor thing. That King penguin pushing her into the water sure didn't help matters, did it?"

The assistant only shrugged as they left the room. She sighed and sat down. That was the problem with Jake: he was so…stupid. He was a bleedin' twit, as she had heard Private say once about him, after Jake had pushed _him_ into the water. But she had only really gone after him because Skipper had…

She blinked and determinedly shoved that idea away. Skipper wasn't interested in her. Period. So she had settled. Skipper wasn't her type, and she wasn't his type…yet she couldn't stop thinking about him. He was intelligent and bold and strong and brave, and really rather handsome, in a paranoid and slightly loopy kind of way. She could take loopy over stupid any day, she decided sadly, and sat down. But she had come to the Central Park Zoo for the breeding program, and she _wanted_ to have babies. It was either Jake or nobody to give them to her.

The thought of stupid babies, however, made her almost nauseated.

"Rosie!"

She peered down to see Marlene staring up at her. She was waving an envelope in her paw.

"Oh…er…hi," she said, not expecting a visitor.

"I brought something for you. From Jake." Marlene jumped up onto the counter and pushed the envelope through the cage door.

"From…Jake?" Rosie opened the letter and began reading, intrigued.

_Dear Rosie,_

_I'm so sorry that you're sick. So much of it is my fault. I know I am often overly exuberant and tend to do foolish things. I'm so sorry._

_Please get better soon. I miss you so badly. Just seeing you makes me feel better. In fact, your very presence makes me feel overjoyed. I know I'm terrible at talking to you, but admiring and respecting you is so easy. You delight me. You make me crazy. Even kind of stupid, I'll admit. You make me forget what I'm doing and what I'm supposed to do. I can't go through my daily duties and take care of my own responsibilities, for thinking and worrying about you. I have to make sure you're safe and happy when I wake up, and I have to see that you're all right throughout the day. The last thing I think about before I sleep is you, Rosie. I never though I would feel this way about anybody!_

_Take care of yourself, and let the veterinarians help you. I know they frighten you, but they are doing their best and really want you to get well. I admit, I'm afraid of them too. But fear only can eat at you if you allow it to. _

_Just remember that I am thinking about you and want only your happiness and good health._

_Yours Forever,_

_Jake_

Rosie's eyes filled with tears. What a sweet, thoughtful letter! She looked at Marlene, who was watching her carefully, scoping out her reaction. She folded the letter, cleared her throat, and nodded. "Tell…tell Jake I really appreciate the letter. It was very…nice." She tucked it under her blanket.

Marlene nodded. "Well, then. Mission accomplished. Get well soon, eh?"

"Yes, I'll try," Rosie answered softly.

Marlene ran away, just before the veterinarian returned. Rosie faced him, trembling a little but determined to be more cooperative, if not more brave. He checked her over carefully and smiled, apparently pleased. "I see some good signs there, sweetheart. Maybe just a couple more days and you'll be as good as new. Poor thing, you're still scared, aren't you?" He laughed. "Well, no more needles for now, and if you're a good girl and eat your fish, you won't have to take that fish paste. If it tastes as bad as it smells, I can't imagine you'd like it."

Rosie fluffed up a bit, and allowed the vet to wrap her up in a towel, which did make her feel even better. Soon, she was dozing off, feeling much better. Maybe Jake wasn't so bad after all, she decided with a yawn. If he was capable of writing such sweet letters, then maybe he wasn't all that bad after all.

She'd give him another chance. Stupid babies were better than no babies at all.


	13. Chapter 13

Song: _You Don't Know Me_ (C. Walker/E. Arnold), Unichappell Music, BMI, as sung by Ray Charles. It's a classic.

***

"Hey, Rosie!"

She shook herself out of the towel and looked down to see Marlene, who was bearing flowers and another letter. That made _fifteen _letters so far, in just one day! She smiled and waved at the otter, who jumped up to the counter and handed the flowers and letter over.

"There was supposed to be some candy to go along with this stuff, but…er…well, Julien waylaid me on the way over. I fought for them, but he was pretty determined. 'Frances must be having the flowers and the candy!' he said," Marlene rolled her eyes as she imitated Julien's accent. "Frances sends her apologies and her best wishes, but she is having the strangest cravings now, and…well. You know."

Rosie laughed and read the letter. "Thanks. I don't like chocolate anyway." Each one had been sweeter, warmer, and more romantic than the last, without being sappy or embarrassing or even explicit, though the undertone of each one was definitely beyond G-rated without being even vaguely offensive. Since yesterday, the stack of letters she had hidden under her blanket had grown to almost thirty, and she had carefully set them all in order, from earliest to latest.

"So you're feeling better?" Marlene asked her as she re-read the letter.

"I think so. I heard the vet say I could go back home tomorrow."

"Jake's really…well, he's really layin' it on thick, huh?" Marlene cocked her head to the side, her gaze intent.

"Yes." Rosie sat down and tucked the letter way, to be read again later, with all the others. "I…well, you know, I'm here for the breeding program. He's kind of…"

"Dumb?" Marlene said, before she could stop herself. Rosie looked a little miffed, but Marlene smiled ingratiatingly. "I mean, he's not good with words. I mean, not with…er…spoken words."

"Right." Rosie sighed. "But he's saying all the right things _here_," she said, pointing to the letters. "That's…good, right?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Marlene smiled. "Well, see ya!" She jumped down and headed back toward her own enclosure, but decided to take a side trip to the penguins HQ, to see what the deal was with this Jake dude. He barely seemed capable, in Marlene's mind, of stringing a sentence together with the aid of a dictionary and a cattle prod, so this bore investigating.

She greeted everyone in the HQ, but noted that neither Skipper nor Jake were present. She chatted for a while with Gracie, whose egg was due to hatch any day now. Rico was a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth, peering anxiously at the egg every time he passed it. Charlotte and Private were working on the model ship, talking excitedly about sharing babysitting responsibilities, while Kowalski and Isabelle were designing what they called a 'chick santuary', complete with obstacle course, learning center, paddling pool and a time-out corner. Marlene admired their efforts, then went up to find Skipper.

"I can't do this any more, Jake. It's driving me nuts!"

"It's only 'til she comes back!" Jake pleaded. "C'mon, man. You can do it. I mean, it was just a coupla letters, right? How hard can one more be?"

"O-One more?"

Marlene slipped soundlessly into the water and swam around to listen, her astonishment growing.

"Yeah. How many have you written?"

"Er…just the…uh…two. The two letters." Skipper was pacing, agitated. "Right. Well. I…I suppose I can do another one. But no more!"

"Okay, fine." Jake nodded and waddled away, pleased. Marlene jumped up onto the floe then, startling Skipper so badly that he actually wheezed, a sure sign of high stress.

"Hey, hey, it's just me. How're you doing, Skipper? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm hunky with a side of dory, Marlene," Skipper answered her, trying to sound nonchalant. He didn't look at ease at all, though. He looked like he was developing a severe stomach ulcer and maybe even a heart condition. Marlene looked at him carefully. A _serious_ heart condition. A wave of pity washed over Marlene. So that was it!

"Well…anyway, I just dropped by for a visit. You're feeling okay?"

"Like I said, I'm _el excelente_!" Skipper smiled, but she saw that his eyes were bloodshot.

"Not sleeping, huh?"

"Doesn't matter. A leader never really sleeps. He keeps watch. He's always alert."

"You need a cookie and a bottle of milk, Skipper. Maybe even a bwankie," she said, smiling.

"Oh, shaddup and lemme alone, will ya?" he grouched. "I'm not a baby. I can deal. I've always…dealt."

"Dealt with what? Being alone? You know what your problem is, Skipper? You've been alone all your life, except for the guys, but they don't take the place of…well, companionship with a female penguin. You want a family, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter!" He swore under his breath, pacing again until stopping to face her. "I don't want to talk about it any more. Just mind your own business, Marlene. All right? I know you're concerned and…and I suppose I appreciate that, or I will some day, but right now, I just don't want to discuss it. It's a done deal."

She sighed. "All right. See ya 'round." She dove into the water and swam away. Skipper's shoulders sagged and he waddled miserably to the entry hole and jumped down. Everyone was gathering around Gracie and Rico, apparently holding a surprise baby shower for the couple. Skipper moved away from the happy celebration and settled in the corner, sitting down to let his mind drift around like a bottle on the sea.

"I really ought to learn needlepoint," he said to himself. "That might be easier than a mental institution."

***

Jake waddled out onto the floe the next morning and noted that Alice and another zookeeper were carrying a crate toward the enclosure. He waited expectantly, figuring another penguin was being introduced. But the zookeepers only stood there, discussing something and gesturing toward him.

"The _Berlin_ Zoo? Are you sure about that?" Alice was saying. "Not exactly a warm and cuddly place."

"He'll be fine there. They've got a small King penguin breeding group there and he's a prime specimen. Apparently not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he'll fit in with what they're trying," the other keeper told her. "But hey, we need to get the supplies ready before we put him in. Come on." The keepers left. Jake stood, stunned, on the floe for a long time, slowly grasping what was happening. He was being shipped away! To…where was Berlin?

***

Skipper tried again and again to write a letter to Rosie, but he was so miserable that the only thing he could write down were the lyrics to an old Ray Charles song he'd always kind of liked, and which now applied only too well to him:

_You give your hand to me_

_And then you say hello_

_I can hardly speak_

_My heart is beating so_

_And anyone can tell_

_You think you know me well_

_But you don't know me_

_Oh you don't know the one_

_That thinks of you at night_

_Who longs to kiss your lips_

_And yearns to squeeze you tight_

_No I'm just a friend_

_That's all I've ever been_

_You just don't know me_

_I never knew the art of making love_

_Though my heart aches with love for you_

_Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by_

_The chance that you might love me too_

_You give your hand to me_

_And then you say goodbye_

_I watch you walk away_

_Beside the lucky guy_

_You'll never, never know_

_The one who loves you so_

_You just don't know me_

_I never knew the art of making love_

_Though my heart aches with love for you_

_Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by_

_The chance that you might love me too_

_You give your hand to me_

_And then you say goodbye_

_I watch you walk away_

_Beside the lucky guy_

_Who'll never, never know_

_The one who loves you so_

_You just don't know me_

_You'll never, ever know_

_Cause you just don't know me_

He tore up the sheet of paper and pitched it into the trash. It took him almost another hour just to write the letter, and get it just right. He poured out his heart to her, as if he were writing the letter for himself, cursing himself for being such a fool the whole time. A fool for getting caught up in this. A fool for letting himself fall so hard. He was just a crazy, paranoid soldier with a lot of boring stories of his glory days. He wiped droplets off the sheet, refusing to acknowledge them as anything but maybe drips from a leaky drainpipe above, but knowing full well what they really were.

He signed Jake's name, stuffed it into an envelope, wrote 'Rosie' on the front, and headed out to find Jake, but the King penguin wasn't on the floe. Skipper shrugged and took the letter to Marlene, who would, as usual, deliver it to Rosie. She only gave him a curious look and said she would take it over as soon as she could.

***

Just minutes after Skipper left Marlene's enclosure, Jake arrived. He was holding an envelope and looking a little harried. "Hey, Marlene, would you take this letter to Rosie?"

"Oh, sure," she said, giving him an innocent smile. She tucked the letter into her hiding spot, next to the one Skipper had given her.

"I'm leaving. They're shipping me out to Ber…Ber-something."

"Berlin?"

"Yeah, that's it. Berlin. I have to get back to the enclosure. I'm really gonna miss Rosie, y'know? She was…cool. But…I don't think it'd've worked out. She wasn't really my type. She was…well, she was smart."

"Riiight," Marlene nodded. "Well. Ciao."

"Yeppers. Adios, amiga!" Jake left, completely unaware of any kind of chaos he might be leaving in his wake. Marlene sat down, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began writing a letter of her own to Rosie. It would be brief and to the point.

***

Rosie opened the first letter, which was written in a familiar hand, and read and re-read it with pleasure. He did love her! He actually said it, plain as day, and talked about having a family! She sighed happily and put it aside, picking up the second letter. Two at once! She laughed, opened it, and began reading. The smile slipped slowly from her face as she scanned the clumsy words.

_Dear Rosie,_

_I'm writing this leter to tell you that Im leaving. They are taking me to Burlin. I really enjoyed being with you. You are real nice. _

_Don't feel bad. Your real hot and wont have any trouble getting a guy. _

_Jake_

Rage filled her until she was practically boiling. She tore into the third letter, from Marlene, and became even angrier.

She threw all three letters down and began pacing in her cage. She felt like the top of her head was going to blow off. How dare they! How dare Jake! How dare Skipper! They had deceived her! She wasn't even sure who she was angriest _at_. It was a good thing, anyway, that Jake was heading off to 'Burlin' or he'd probably not be alive after she was finished with him tomorrow.

"Ugh! Men!" she shouted. "Lunatics!"

She wanted answers, and they had better be downright excellent answers! Skipper was going to have to face the music! As soon as she got back to the enclosure, he had a _lot_ of explaining to do!


	14. Chapter 14

THE FINAL CHAPTER. Wee. It's finally over. I was going nuts, trying to put this thing to bed...

Skipper spent the entire night out on the platform, in no mood for any form of camaraderie. Instead, he just brooded. Considered his options and the basic miserable inevitability of it all. He had chosen a solitary life, hadn't he? Susie had wanted him to give up the soldier's life, long ago, and he had considered it, but then she had told him that she wanted him to settle down into hen-pecked domesticity (well, she hadn't used that term _exactly_ but it had been close enough) and he hadn't wanted that at all. Not only that, she had started humming 'Muskrat Love' and that had really put the nail in the coffin. If she had started singing 'Seasons in the Sun', or God forbid, 'MacArthur Park*' he might have committed hara-kiri right then and there!

Rosie didn't like Captain _&_ Tenille. She liked _Grease_ and _Guys and Dolls_ and _The King and I_. She liked studying the stars and knew the meanings of words like 'quark' and where in the galaxy to find Betelgeuse, instead of thinking it was a movie starring Michael Keaton. To Skipper, she was perfection itself, with a dozen wonderful flaws and fascinating things to learn about every day.

He tucked his head under his wing and slept, not caring what was going on around him. He didn't wake when Alice and another zookeeper brought Rosie back. She only glanced at him before going down to greet her mother and sisters. It took Private popping up a few minutes later to wake him. "Skipper! Skipper, Rico's egg has hatched! It hatched!"

Sighing, Skipper went down the hatch and into the HQ, vaguely curious about the new recruit. He peered down into the little crib and inspected the baby penguin, who peered up at him with innocent blue eyes. "Well, Rico, I just hope there's nothing in heredity," he said warmly, patting his explosives expert on the shoulder. Gracie rolled her eyes.

"He'll be as sweet as his Papa," she told him firmly. "Maybe a little eccentric, but normal is boring." She picked up her baby and cuddled him. "We're naming him Henry."

Rico squawked. "Henry!"

"Yes, Rico. _Henry_. We are not naming him 'Kaboom'. Or 'Buttons'!" Gracie told him firmly.

Rico looked disappointed, but appeared to accept his mate's decision. They carried the baby away to a quiet corner, for some quiet family time. Skipper sighed, nodded to Gracie's daughters, and left. Rosie took that moment to also slip away, determined to have a little chat with Skipper.

***

"Oh, Skipper!" Rosie waved to him before he could jump into the water. He turned around and faced her, then looked around the floe, suddenly bewildered. Where was Jake? It hadn't even dawned on him, until now, that the King penguin hadn't been around in a while.

"Er…yeah?"

"Could I talk to you a minute? It's really important."

"Sure. Whatever."

"Well, you know, Jake was sending me all those _beautiful_ letters while I was in the infirmary. They were so lyrical. So romantic and…well, they were just the sorts of things a girl wants to hear. Or read, actually."

"Right." Skipper squirmed uncomfortably. "Good. Nice to hear."

"Funny thing was, Jake only ever _said_ those things once, just when we started seeing each oth-…ouch…" She looked down and almost screamed when she saw _three_ tiny baby mouse lemurs attached to her leg and staring up at him with huge eyes. They all squeaked high-pitched 'hellos', which scared her even more. "Oh my goodness! What are _these_ things?!"

"Baby Morts!" Skipper thought about knocking them all off her, but decided against it. The babies were harmless, bug-eyed little things, cute as buttons though somewhat smaller. A moment later, Mort appeared, followed by Gigi, and he somehow dragged his offspring off Rosie.

"Sorry!" he said. "They have the strangest thing about…don't bite me!…feet. I wonder…where…they get it?" He picked up the last baby and they all attached themselves like tiny leeches to their father, squealing delightedly.

"It will remain shrouded in mystery for all eternity, I'm sure," Skipper said, knowing his sarcasm would be lost on Mort. Gigi smiled sweetly at him, though she looked extremely tired.

"It's our first outing with the kids. They're adorable, but I can't tell who is who. And each day they get a little faster and a little more…_foot_ obsessed. Did you know Julien and Frances are expecting a baby?"

Skipper wheezed. "Well, color me horrified."

"And Maurice and Esmerelda are due any minute now. All these babies! Well, anyway, we've come to see Rico and Gracie's baby. Come on, Mort…babies, please…your poor Papa can't walk with you attached to him like that…"

The baby lemurs had crawled down to clutch Mort's feet. The mouse lemur yelped. "Not so tightly! Gigi…Gigi, please, help me!"

They waddled away, covered with tiny lemur-leeches. Skipper started to speak, but was interrupted by Julien and Frances walking toward the hatch, Frances moaning miserably, her belly swollen with Julien's heir. The usually sassy female lemur looked exhausted and slightly ill.

"My ankles are hurting so bad...and this baby is doing a merengue on my bladder!"

Julien, solicitous and clearly sleep-deprived, was supporting her, though he actually looked like he needed a three-day nap. "Well, when we get back, we'll put your feet up and get that baby to go to sleep!"

"I'm sorry if I've seemed so cranky lately," Frances said as they passed between Skipper and Rosie, not even noticing them.

"Cranky? I hardly noticed!" Julien said, smiling sweetly.

"That's because you don't _listen_!" Frances barked, vexed.

"Oh well," Julien mused. "I'm sure we'll both get plenty of rest after the baby comes…" They climbed down the hatch.

"Anyway, back to Planet Earth, what were you saying?" Skipper said, turning back to Rosie.

"I was saying that I think you ought to read some of the letters, Skipper."

"Me? Wh…why would I want to read them?" Skipper gasped, startled. "I…"

"Particularly the last one. Here." She handed one of the sheets to him.

Skipper frowned at her, holding the letter away from him as if it were a rabid weasel. "Uh…really, these letters are very personal…for your eyes only!"

"No, I want you to read it, Skipper," she said sweetly.

"Oh, all right. Women!" He opened the letter and began reading. Jake's clumsy, misspelled missive to Rosie stunned him. He held the letter in front of his face, struggling to find something to say, but instead all he could do was stutter and stammer. "It's…I mean, it's…this letter…it's so…so like him…always ready with a…joke…" he finished lamely.

"He wasn't joking!" Rosie snapped. "He's gone. To Berlin!"

"Berlin!" Skipper looked around, realizing now that Jake was very definitely gone. Other things dawned on him, too. Jake's letter had gotten to her just as the one Skipper had written had arrived. This was an unmitigated disaster. Maybe even a mitigated disaster. Perhaps even a mega disaster!

"Yes. Berlin!" She smacked Skipper across the face, so suddenly that he jumped back with a frightened wheeze, but he recovered quickly. "You lying, deceitful…lying jerk!" She handed him another letter, on colored paper he didn't recognize. "This is from Marlene, by the way."

"You said lying twice, Miss Smarty Pants!" he shouted back at her.

She handed him another letter, on colored paper he didn't recognize. "This is from Marlene, by the way."

Skipper read the note, his horror growing. He was going to _strangle_ Marlene!

_Dear Rosie,_

_Skipper is the one who has been writing the letters to you. He's crazy about you. Give him a chance. _

_I hope we can talk later,_

_Marlene_

Skipper peered over the top of the letter, meeting blazing eyes. Rosie looked like she wanted to skin him alive. "You manipulated me!" she shouted. "What was this, some kind of sick game you and Jake were playing?" She rounded on him, causing him to move in circles, flippers raised in self-defense.

He sputtered with rage. "It wasn't a game! And even if it was, you sure did go right for it!" he blustered. "Just one night up on this floe, Jake saying pretty words and next thing, you're singing show tunes and stargazing!" Skipper blustered back.

"They weren't even his words!" Rosie yelled. "You were feeding them to him, Cyrano! Oh, you _disgust_ me!"

"Yes, they were my words!" Skipper ground out. "They were all mine. Every last one of them! Jake needed a teleprompter just to say 'Good morning'! And right after _I_ said those words, there was _somebody_ up here with you, singing the score from _The King and I_ and it _**SURE WASN'T**__**ME**_!"

"You said I wasn't your type. I remember distinctly!" she retorted hotly.

"I was LYING!" he screamed, his anger and hurt and frustration pouring out. "You'd think that, what with being so _smart_, you could have figured that out!"

"Oh! Oh, you big…oh, I'd just like to…you should…oh, you make me sick! You are _crazy_! Well, I don't want to see you any more. I never want to see your lying, cold-hearted face again, you big jerk! So go away! Go on, go!"

"This is my floe! My HQ! So _you_ go!" He flapped his flippers toward the zoo exit.

"No way!"

"Yes, way. Go. Get! Scat!"

"Make me!" she challenged, stepping into his personal space, her face just inches from his. "I'd just like to see you try!"

He flinched. Skipper had never struck a female penguin in his entire life, no matter how hard she might have provoked him. He hadn't even hit his sister when she'd called him a marshmallow who loved show tunes and starry nights and that one day, he'd fall like a sack of wheat for some girl who would have no trouble standing up to him. Where was his sister now, he wondered. He could have used her quick wits right about now. Hmph. She was probably running Brazil now. "All right, you go on down there and leave me alone! Go on, get back inside! Go!" All logic and rational thinking left Skipper. He was so furious he wasn't even sure what he was saying. "I'll count to ten!"

"Fine! If you _can_ count to ten!" She pushed the dish aside and jumped down the hatch. Skipper paced, counting.

"One! Two! Three! Three and a half. Three and three quarters. Three…er…where's Kowalski when I need numbers?" He paused a tic. "Four more seconds and I'm _leaving_!"

"What?" Rosie stuck her head up through the hatch.

"I said four more seconds and I'm leaving!" He started to walk away, then turned back. "What did you think I said?"

"I thought you said 'His murred sessions were signed weaving'!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, bewildered.

"I don't know. That's why I asked!" She jumped back down again, leaving Skipper alone on the floe. He paced, counting down again from ten until he reached two. He stopped and looked up at the brilliant blue sky. Miserably, he covered his face with his flippers, fighting back his grief. It was all over. He had lost.

***

Skipper wandered around the zoo for hours. He visited Phil and Mason, attempting a game of chess, but they beat him soundly. He visited the polar bear, who almost wouldn't let go of him. He visited the spider monkeys, who pulled three feathers out of his tail and sent him running for his life. He visited Marlene, still wanting to kill her, but instead he only told her what had happened with Rosie, and just accepted her sympathy. He didn't even want her to apologize. She had done the right thing. He was the one who had screwed up.

Leaving the zoo, Skipper wandered the streets for hours, trying to think of some place to go. It wasn't Christmas, so he couldn't get a job as a window display and use the cash to build a lair with laser beams, as Kowalski had so brilliantly suggested. He got distracted at some point and ended up going into Macy's, where a little girl mistook him for a toy and tried to get her mother to buy him. Partially digested fish and a ruined dress had solved that problem, but then Animal Control was called and Skipper had had to make a run for it. He was soon back at the zoo, slipping right through the front gates, unnoticed in the afternoon crowd. He went to the lemur enclosure, deciding that lunacy was better than despondency.

***

"Rosie, sweetie, what's the matter?" Gracie waddled over, her baby taking a ride on her feet, giggling happily. Henry peeked up at his older sister, and Rosie smiled indulgently at him.

"I'm just…it's been a rough day."

"Yes, I heard Jake left. All the stupid has been sucked from the room."

"Mom!"

"Well, let's face it, honey. He wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I would have put money on you and Skipper, actually." She sounded very matter-of-fact, but Rosie knew better. Her mother was about as subtle as a bulldozer.

"I know…he…I mean…well, I was getting these letters while I was in the infirmary…"

"Letters? Really?" Gracie smiled. She hadn't let Skipper know that she'd seen him writing, sometimes late into the night, when he'd thought everyone was asleep. "What sort of letters?"

"Well…er…love letters, I guess," Rosie mumbled, embarrassed. You didn't talk about stuff like this with your mother, did you? You wore matching outfits and exchanged recipes. You didn't talk about _romance_ with her! Then it would lead to the Inevitable Discussion about birds and bees and _That_ and that almost made Rosie break out in hives.

"Ah. The best kind of letter to get, I'd say. You know, your father wrote me some beautiful letters, long ago."

"Dad? Wrote _letters_?" Rosie was stunned. "Our Dad?"

"Yes, _that_ Dad," Gracie rolled her eyes. "You're not an only child, in case you haven't noticed. He wasn't good at expressing his feelings, either. But…Jake was writing these letters to you…"

"No. That's just it. They…he and Skipper…they decided it'd be fun to write letters to me. Skipper, I mean…he wrote the letters for Jake." She huffed angrily, fluffing out her feathers.

Gracie picked up one of the letters and read it, smiling dreamily. "Oh…my. '_It's so right that you're named Rose. They say a rose by another name would smell as sweet, and I don't know if that's true. But no creature on this earth is as sweet as you…which I know rhymes a little too well and when you hear the doorbell, it's probably the Schmaltz Police, but…well, I can't help it. You are sweet. And beautiful. And fascinating._' "Well, paint my toenails and call me Sally, but that's just about the sweetest thing anybody's ever written."

"Yeah, but he wrote that as _Jake_!" Rosie snapped, aggravated. Those words – those letters, those sentiments – still made her blush.

"No, sweetheart, he was writing them as Skipper," Gracie corrected her gently. "Honey, males are trained almost from the nest to hide their emotions, because in many cases any display will be used against them. They have to be tough and stoic. Leaders. They have to make decisions. Remember how your father got when I got all weepy? He wanted to be on another _planet_. But he never had any trouble, once he got used to it, with saying 'I love you' and just being his usual kind, sweet self. Talked a lot, I'll admit, but I didn't mind. Let me tell you, Rosie – females have been griping about males for a long time, but we often forget that all it takes is a little kindness, some understanding, some indulgence of male loopiness and female neurosis, and the sexes can get along just fine. Ever notice that they tend to get out when we start screaming and being impossible? Who _wouldn't_ get tired of that?"

"Rico never talks!" Rosie pointed out desperately. "He grunts and spits up things! Bombs, for instance. You just call that 'loopiness'?"

"Sure," Gracie laughed. "Honey, I'm not just settling here. Rico is right for me. He's crazy, yes, but the best thing about it is that he's crazy about _me_, and I'm crazy about him. I talk and he listens, but I just sort of…well, I get what he's thinking. What he's feeling. I have to wait for him to calm down a bit, but it works. And Henry…look at my baby boy…isn't he just gorgeous?" She nuzzled her little son, who cooed back, deliriously happy on his perch on her feet. "I didn't like your relationship with Jake for one basic reason: you were settling, which is a bad thing for anybody. Never just settle, honey. Go for the best."

"But Skipper said he didn't want me," Rosie said sadly. "I'm here for the breeding program, Mom. I want to have babies. Jake seemed to want babies. I want my own family."

"Jake was too thick to grasp the concept of babies. He probably thought they grew in cabbage patches. Now, yes, Skipper has flaws, and so do you. But I've always seen good relationships as being like a pair of scissors – the blades often move in opposition to one another, but they cut anything that comes between them. You and Skipper will never be alike, and you'd bore each other to tears if you were too alike, but you're both strong, intelligent and fearless. Well…almost fearless. Fearless when it counts." Gracie sighed. "I'm too old for fear. It's a waste of time. It's time to jump!"

Rosie looked down, wondering if she really had the courage to give Skipper another chance. Or if he had the courage to jump as well.

***

Skipper played poker with an increasingly antsy Julien, beating him over and over until the lemur had lost his main crown and his spare crown, along with his fruity drink cups, two bar stools, his boomy box, and his Bouncy. Skipper gave them all back, however, figuring the poor guy would need something to escape to once the kid was born. Frances slept fitfully on the Super Duper Pamper Time Floaty Throne (balloons not attached), muttering. Mort came down from the trees, snatching a few minutes alone, or at least what he thought was alone, until he discovered a baby lemur attached to his leg. Maurice came strolling up, proudly bearing a baby Aye-Aye on his arm. "Look! Hey, Joseph, point at the King!"

The baby Aye-Aye pointed its long finger at Julien, who quaked nervously until they left. "I _hate_ when he does that," Julien whispered to Skipper.

"Doesn't Maurice ever point at you?"

"Only to point at my kingly grandeur, of course. Joseph points at me as if to say, 'Look at the loony-toony!' Very disrespectful."

Skipper snickered. Mort came scrambling down from his perch in the tree and looked around warily. "Are there babies attached to me?" he asked.

"I don't see any. There's not _more_ now, are there?" Julien asked him.

"No. They exhaust me!" He went right for Julien's feet, after months of only being obsessed with Gigi's, and the lemur kicked him away, then he looked oddly contrite.

"No touching the feet. But…but you may sit with me and Skipper while we play cards. I'm about to win all his possessions from him."

"Lemur, you've lost fifteen hands straight."

"What hands? I have two hands, and I have not lost them." He held up his hands, causing Skipper to shake his head. Julien was hopeless.

"JULIEN! GET YOUR FLUFFY BUTT UP HERE **NOW**!" screamed Frances, causing Julien's cards to scatter all over the smoothie bar and Skipper to jump down, ready to duck for cover.

"What is it, my precious one?" Julien rushed up to the floaty throne, Skipper right behind him, and was horrified to see his mate writhing in agony.

"This is your fault! I swear, if I live through this, I will _KILL YOU_!" she howled.

"What is happening?" Julien asked Skipper, bewildered.

"She's having the baby, I think. Either that, or she's been possessed by the devil. If her head spins around and she spits out pea soup, I'll get the holy water," Skipper answered. "If it's labor, I'll boil the holy water."

"Aaaauuuugggghhhh!" Frances screamed. "This kid wants out NOW!" In just a few moments, Frances delivered a screaming baby lemur, much to Skipper's dismay and Julien's delight.

"I have an heir!" he crowed happily. "It's a b-…hey, wait a minute…that's not a boy. That's…Frances, it's a girl!"

Frances, holding her daughter and carefully licking the squirming, squealing baby from head to toe, gave her mate a warning look. "Got a problem with that, Kingy?"

"But…but…I must have an heir!"

"And you have one!" Frances told him firmly. "We'll name her Julia."

Julien, undeterred, stepped closer to his mate. "Perhaps if we blew really hard into her mouth, she'll turn into a he?"

Skipper slapped his flipper to his forehead. "Julien, the deal's done. It's a girl. Deal with it. Besides, if you did that, you'd never get her eyes back in her head."

Julien peered down at his child and something seemed to come over him. His expression softened and he began to smile. "She is…she is very pretty, in a properly royal kind of way." He touched the baby's cheek, and little Julia blinked. "Princess Julia. Yes, she is very royal. She will be Queen of the Lemurs some day!"

"Not any time soon, I hope," Frances said, smiling warmly. "You've got a long reign of royal loopiness ahead of you, sweetie," she told Julien.

"Skipper?"

Skipper almost jumped out of his skin, being caught smiling and making goofy faces at the baby lemur, who seemed already to possess her father's confidence and her mother's level-headedness. He turned to see Rosie standing behind him, looking around nervously.

"Oh. Yeah." He glanced back at Frances and Julien, but they were wrapped up in bonding with their baby. The two penguins climbed down to the Bouncy, Skipper bracing himself for another tirade and knowing he deserved one.

"Listen, I…I was just…I wanted to apologize," she said at last.

"Apologize? For what? I'm the one who…"

"No, you were just doing what you thought I wanted. I can't hold _that_ against you."

"So…what are you holding against me?" he asked cautiously.

"That you weren't honest with me. That you didn't tell me how you really felt. I really do a have preference for honesty, Skipper."

"Well, yeah, I supp-…wait, are you saying…"

"I'm saying that everybody deserves a second chance. All those things you said about me…and to me…in the letters, and that night at the floe, were beautiful and sincere and from your heart."

"Yeah, my cold, black heart," he muttered.

"Your big, soft, show-tune-loving heart," she said, laughing softly.

"And I was afr-afra-fray-ay-ay-aid…" He blushed. "I was just kind of sca-scar-scared to say those things as myself."

"If you'll promise to stop being so afr-afra-ay-ay-aid, and just say what you're really feeling, I'll be willing to listen. I mean, Skipper, I'm here for the breeding program. But I'd also like a family of my own. Babies. With show tunes and star-gazing, and recon missions of course, on the side."

"Really?" His eyes were wide with wonder and adoration, which he knew made him look silly, but he couldn't help it. "I mean…I mean, uh…well, you know…Rosie, I…I do love you. I know that's a ridiculous reason to take part in the zoo's breeding program, but there you have it…"

She burst into laughter. "Well, love is always a ridiculous reason for making a family, but I suppose that's the best we can really do."

"Rosie, I…okay, I've got to say it, and then the Schmaltz Police will definitely haul us away, but…you're the best I'll ever do. I'm just…I'm…I'm just completely nuts about you."

She smiled and took his flipper in his. "Then I think we need to start making some plans, hm?"

"Plans? What plans?" Skipper asked, walking with her toward the penguin enclosure.

"Well…there's this _program_ the zoo has started…"

THE END

* A truly horrible song about a man who is dying, but not fast enough.

* The world's worst pop song. Ask your parents. Then find it and play it. Have a bucket handy.


End file.
